Fallen Angels
by believin'inluv
Summary: The six teens of Gossip Girl: through their parents' eyes. All the manipulation, the lying, and morals had to come from someone...or sometime, somewhere. TV show based. Final chapter up.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is actually six separate stories. Each chapter is through the eyes of the parents of the Gossip Girl teens and the role they played in making their kids who they are (and the moments that defined them). I will not name the order; that will be a surprise. I'll warn you that these will be a little sad at times but happy at others. It depends on the character, really. It's based on the TV show. Please R&R!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl (though I'd totally own Chuck Bass in bed).**

**Fallen Angels: Part 1**

I remember when he first came into this world.

I was at a business meeting in Washington when I got the call from Misty, informing me that her water had broken. I sat in the stuffy board room, a small smile creeping across my lips. Though I didn't leave. No, I didn't leave. It was a major corporate political thing, and if I had left the opportunity would never have presented itself another time. It's a long story, so I'll spare you the details and tell you that I did end up at the hospital the next day. I took an urgent overnight flight and was in her room by morning. Misty awoke when I entered, smiling at me tiredly. My wife always was a pretty woman, with big brown eyes and straight dark brown hair that went past her shoulders. I looked from her to around the room.

"Where is it?" I asked. I glanced back at her, and she looked like she was going to fall asleep again. "Or should I say, what is it?" Misty laughed once, weakly.

"We have a son, Bart. It's a boy."

I sighed out of relief. I needed a boy to carry on the family name more than anything. I don't read much, but I did happen to come across a novel called "The Good Earth" by Pearl S. Buck in college. I remember that one of the minor characters said that a baby girl is like the New Year's pig: you raise it and feed it and in the end it goes to another family. That was the last thing I wanted. I looked around once again before spotting the little plastic-barricaded cart off to the side of the room. I walked over to the cart and peered inside to look at my son.

He was the most beautiful baby I have ever laid eyes upon, and I'm not just saying that because he's mine. I'm a very self-possessed individual, and I don't often think sentimentally about anything. However, when I gazed down at that child, I couldn't help myself. He was wrapped in a soft blue blanket, a sleeping round face poking out from above. Most babies' hair changes after a while, but he always had his mother's dark brown, poker straight hair since day one. He was surrounded by a certain glow that all new children possess, and he had an extremely white skin tone. I don't know where he got that from to this day; neither Misty nor I have that whiteness in our families (that we know of). When I first noticed that, I couldn't help but wonder if it was a problem. I hoped he would grow less pale with age. I didn't want my son looking sickly all the time. The only color he displayed was the tint of rose in his cheeks. His lips were so thin, and as I examined him more I grew worried, hoping that he wasn't dead. His little chest rising from under the blanket ceased those woes, but I still hoped that he wouldn't be too fragile.

"What name did you choose?" I asked, looking over at my wife. She didn't respond. I walked over and rubbed her arm a little. "Misty? What name did you choose?" She rolled away from me slightly, and spoke as if I were talking to her in a dream.

"Charles…I named him Charles…" She drifted back to sleep, and I walked slowly back over to the babe. When I looked back down, I saw that he was waking up just as his mother was falling asleep. And then I saw those eyes.

His eyes were darker than the purest chocolate. They were darker than the blackened skies I have seen when I was a poor boy growing up in Harlem. As he opened them wider I became mesmerized. They were as wide as saucers, and I was dumbstruck by their childlike glisten. Again, I don't know where his eye color came from. I have grayish-blue eyes, and not even Misty's eyes were that dark brown. I have never seen eyes his color.

He looked up at me and smiled a tiny, baby smile. Then he seemed to look behind me, enthralled as if something more interesting stood there.

* * *

Misty loved him more than anything. I would be out on business trips and sometimes she would call me to ask about something. I would always ask her what she was doing, and she would always be somewhere with Charlie. Either she would be sitting on the couch with him and holding him, or she'd be out shopping with him in a stroller.

We lived in a penthouse back then, one similar to the one the Waldorf family currently owns. I was rarely home; business consumed my life, as it does now. However, whenever I did come home, Misty would be waiting excitedly to tell me about our son. It went from him growing an inch to how he needed a haircut to how he said his first word (which was mama, by the way). I would nod in reply, thinking about how great he would be one day when he took over my business.

Whenever he would cry in the middle of the night, she would run to him as though the place was burning down and she had to rescue him. Then I would hear her singing to him. It was a song from one of her favorite childhood movies, "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory." I have never seen it, but I remember her rocking him gently in her arms and softly crooning the words.

"Cheer up, Charlie…give me a smile…what happened to that smile I used to know? Don't you know your grin has always been my sunshine…let that sunshine show."

She would come back to bed, not angry at all that he had awoken her. It irritated me. He would never learn self-discipline if she consoled him all the time. So I asked her one morning to stop going into his room if he cried.

"For Christ sake Bart, he's three months old!" she had exclaimed. As the years went by, we disagreed on so much more than that. Whenever I began coming home we would get into earth-shattering arguments. That's how I got back into loving alcohol as much as I did as a teenager. Soon she stopped calling me when I was away. One night I came home from India, and we exploded into an argument. She accused me of never being home and never being there when Charles needed me.

"He has you!" I had exclaimed. I still remember myself shaking in rage, looking at my wife with hot rage.

"He needs a father!" she yelled back, just as furiously. She got right into my face, seething. "You have never been here for any of his birthdays, or his first day of preschool, or anything! He's four years old now and he barely knows what you look like!"

"I do what I do so that you and he can have a good life!"

"How can we have a good life when you're never home and don't even give a damn about your own son?!"

That was when I slapped her. I honestly didn't mean to. We were in a wild mix of emotions, and I have never been one to handle my anger very well. I had never hit her before. I felt ashamed of myself, because I swore that I would never become what my father was. I thought I could control myself, unlike him.

Misty put a hand to her bleeding lower lip and looked upon me with hurt and disgusted eyes. My heart cracked in two, realizing that I was about to lose her.

"Misty, I'm so sorry--" I began pathetically.

"Who _are _you?!" She asked it in an exclamatory whisper. "More like, what are you?! Do you see what you're turning into?!" I looked away from her, dejectedly. "Bart, I look at you and I don't see the man I love anymore. I see this cold, engaged, strange man who I'm afraid of!" That hurt the most. Misty turned on her heels and went for Charles's room.

"Where are you going?" I asked sharply. She continued walking, not looking back.

"I'm leaving. I'm leaving and I'm taking my son with me."

"He's my son too, God damn it!" I exclaimed, running after her. I pulled her back before she could reach the door, and I guess I pulled too harshly, for she let out a scream. Then she turned and slapped me with her other free hand.

"Let me go!" she exclaimed. Shocked at myself, I did, although she wasn't expecting me too. She was about to hit me again with great force, but her hand hit nothing but thin air. She moved as she swung, causing her to trip and fall forward. She hit the ground headfirst. I knelt down next to her, frantically calling out her name. I turned her over, praying that she would awaken. Her eyes were closed and she wasn't responding at all.

"Daddy?" I looked over at the direction of the tiny voice. Charles stood in the doorway of his room. His dark, widened, frightened eyes made me chilled to the bone. He wore blue spaceship pajamas that his mother had bought for him.

"What are you doing up?" I asked, slightly angered. I couldn't deal with Charles seeing this.

"Why is mommy on the ground?" he asked, his voice shaky.

"She'll be fine," I urged with a wave of my hand. "Go back to sleep."

"Is she dead?" Charles asked. He was only four, yet he could form sentences. His voice trembled more, and his soft little hand grasped the side of the doorway. I scowled at him, becoming more frustrated. He was confronting me with what I didn't want to hear.

"Charles, don't you dare say such awful things. Go back into your room," I demanded.

"She's not going to die like the sheep, is she daddy?" Charles asked. He was referring to a story his preschool teacher read him, in which a sheep passed away. I looked down at Misty, and then back at my son. Charles was starting to heave, getting upset. His normally pale skin turned red as tears began to cloud his eyes. They say children can always sense when something bad is happening.

"Charles Bartholomew Bass, get into your room this instant!" I screamed, my own fears getting the best of me. He didn't. He stood there, frozen like a statue, looking upon his unconscious mother. I stood up violently and walked over to him. I jerked him by the arm aggressively and threw him into his room. He couldn't find his footing, and he tripped backwards until his back hit the wooden footboard of his bed and stopping him. He wailed piercingly, and I closed the door. I couldn't worry about him at the moment. I pulled out my cell phone and called 9-1-1.

Misty didn't have a brain fracture. She was only knocked unconscious, but the doctors feared that she wouldn't wake up. By some divine miracle, she did a few hours after she was admitted into the emergency room. She stayed in the hospital for a day, not wanting to see me. On the day she was going to leave, I came into her room. She was folding up some extra clothes I had brought to her.

"I guess you're leaving, then," I said, truly downhearted. I did let my sadness show. She folded a shirt, not looking at me.

"You've become something terrible," Misty said. "I can't live with it anymore, and neither can Charlie."

"Charles isn't going with you," I said. "He's staying in New York." At that statement, she looked up with menacing eyes.

"He's mine just as much as he is yours. I'm leaving this state and I'm never coming back, so there's no way we can do the weekend switch-offs. You were never there for him before; I'm the better parent for him to grow up with." Her voice was bitter and demanding. I wasn't fazed.

"I'll have my lawyers all over this," I replied. Misty walked over to me angrily.

"No, I'll have mine all over this!" she exclaimed. I took advantage that she wasn't as rich as I was.

"You get your support from your father. You have one lawyer that can't possibly match my many lawyers. If you take me to court, Charles will be in my custody anyway--I'll make sure of it. So why not save us both the trouble and just leave?" I asked calmly. She looked at me for a few moments before she started crying.

"You can't take my son from me!" Misty exclaimed, her tears heavy. "I'm not one of your business adversaries; you can't just threaten me and make me go away!" I just turned around and began to walk out of the room. Suddenly I felt something hard hit the back of my head, and I heard something hit the floor with a tiny clang. I turned around and saw Misty's wedding ring lying on the ground. I looked back up and saw her crying on the bed. At the time, I didn't care. It was all about conquering, getting what I wanted.

I walked out of her room and into the waiting room. Charles sat in a chair, swinging his little, brown-shoed feet back and forth. I still remember his bedraggled hair and the navy blue suit I had dressed him in. His small hands were folded on his lap. He looked up at me, his eyes large and worried.

"How's your back?" I asked him. As soon as the paramedics came for Misty I had gone to him and bandaged the small wound in his lower back.

"It's okay. Where's mommy?" Charles asked. I bent down and looked up into his eyes.

"Mommy's going away for a long, long time."

"Where?" he asked. He was persistent for information back then, and always would be.

"I can't say. But I won't leave you like she did, Charles. I'll always be here." I took him by his tiny hand and we walked over to the elevator. He continued to look behind him. We got into the elevator and I pressed the down button.

"Why is she leaving? Does she still love me?" he asked innocently. I looked down at him.

"Of course she does. She'll always love you." When those words left my mouth, I realized for the first time what I was doing. I felt sick.

Yet I let the elevator door close.

* * *

We moved out of the penthouse and into a fancy hotel, similar to the Palace. A few days before Charles turned five, he came home from preschool one day, ran into his room and collapsed on his bed. I came home late, and the new maid explained how he wouldn't come out. I went into his room and saw him just lying on his side and staring at the white wall. He still wore his little preschool uniform.

"What is it, Charles?" I asked. His eyes glanced over at me, and then back at the wall.

"I'm sad, daddy."

"Don't be sad," I said sternly. "You remember what I told you, about crying?"

"I haven't cried," Charles replied meekly. "But I'm still sad." I looked down at him with hardened eyes, but I figured that asking him would be more to my benefit.

"Why?" I asked. Charles adjusted his one arm so that it lied on top of the other. He looked at his hands, not talking for a few minutes.

"Blair and I were on the swings, and then Blair went off to play with Nate," Charles said, his voice upset. "I hate Nate."

"I thought Nate was your friend," I said.

"He is, when he's not hanging out with Blair." He said it stubbornly, and I almost laughed.

"Do you think she's pretty?" I asked.

"Yeah…but she's always ditching me to go to Nate," Charles said. I walked over to his bed and sat down beside him. I knew how important keeping the Archibalds close was. They were a prominent family, and I wanted my son to have friends from good families.

"Don't be angry with Nate, Charles. Your friends will always stick by you. Girls won't."

"Why?" he asked, finally turning on his back and looking over at me.

"They can hurt you. Your friends won't. Like your mother, for example. She left us, Charles. Of course you can still like Blair, but don't sacrifice your friendship with Nate because of it." It felt like I was talking to a preteen, yet he was only four. He nodded slowly, and I wondered if anything I said sank in.

"Okay daddy, I won't be mad at Nate anymore," he said. I patted him on the shoulder.

"That's my boy." I stood up. "And Charles? From now on, call me father."

"Why?" he asked. I hated when he asked questions, even though it was a natural part of childhood. He would never understand formality, not at that age.

"Just do it," I said lowly. He looked away again, back at the white wall.

"Yes father."

I can't help but think of that day as when I taught him to be a loyal friend--and a womanizer. I am proud of it and regret it at the same time.

* * *

Charles always liked suits. He was always a refined child, never one for casual things. Whenever I came home he would be in a new suit. He would often strut around in them. Sometimes he would go to the mirror and run his hand through his hair and down his suit coat a few times.

"You think you're hot stuff, don't you?" I asked my nine-year-old son one day. I was sitting on the couch and reading the economy section of the newspaper while he admired himself in the mirror.

"Yes," he answered with a large grin. "You can tell I'm your son, right?" he asked. I smiled.

"People could tell you are my son more if you got better grades in school, and not just walk around pompously," I said. Charles was never a good student. He was extremely intelligent, but he despised studying. Over the years I saw his grades decline from A's to C's to F's.

Charles looked at me and frowned.

"I _hate_ school," he said loathingly.

"You need to learn. School was how I got to be what I am today; you know that. You do want to stay rich and well-respected, don't you?" I asked. He nodded with an enthusiastic grin.

"Of course," Charles answered. "I want to be like you." Then he turned back to the mirror.

Back then he was getting C's. After we had that conversation he started to get A's. Even the maid told me how hard he was working. One night, close to the end of the year, the school was having an award ceremony to congratulate the students on their hard work. Charles got one certificate for straight A's the last two quarters. I didn't go to the ceremony because I had a dinner date with an important client.

He never got A's after that.

* * *

I don't know where he got that scarf. It's puzzled me for years. As he got older, I stopped coming home a lot more. He was older, after all, and he had the maids and drivers to do everything. One night I stopped by the hotel for an hour to have a drink before I had to go to a meeting. I remember coming in and seeing Charles sitting at the built-in bar. He had a glass of brown liquid in front of him, and was running his finger along the rim. He wore the red and yellow scarf around his neck, over his black suit's collar. I looked at him for a few minutes, his pale skin and dark hair fascinating me like it had when he was a baby. He looked like a male model.

"Where did you get that scarf?" I asked, walking over to the bar myself. He dramatically raised an eyebrow, but he otherwise didn't look surprised that I didn't know.

"I've had this scarf for three years," Charles replied. I grabbed some scotch out from under the bar and I realized that it had been opened. I looked over at my son's glass and realized that the liquid looked thicker than Pepsi.

"Have you been drinking?!" I asked. He dropped his finger off of the glass and looked at me.

"Yeah," he said, admitting. I immediately got angry.

"Charles, you can't be drinking! You're far too young!" I exclaimed.

"Everyone at my school drinks," he replied, keeping his voice calm.

"Like who?!"

"Nate and Serena Van Der Woodsen. Nate drinks stuff all the time, and Serena just stole her mom's vodka."

"That's ridiculous," I said. "Don't you remember the horror stories I told you from when I was young?! My father was a drunk, I was a drunk--"

"And you're alright," Charles said sharply. He looked up at me, his eyebrows lowered. "You can't tell me not to do things that you did yourself." I looked down at him angrily, knowing that he had me there. I was about to yell some more when suddenly his cell phone rang. Charles reached into his pocket and answered it.

"Hello, Nathaniel." His eyes went wide. "What?" he asked. "Okay, I'll come right over." He snapped the phone shut and looked at me. "I have to go. Nathaniel's parents were fighting again. Their entire penthouse is a wreck." He stood up and began to walk away. However, I had noticed something else, and I wasn't about to let him go before I asked about it.

"Charles." He stopped and turned around to face me. "What are those little cuts on your face?" He looked down, shuffling one foot over the other. He looked embarrassed.

"A razor," he replied. "I was trying to shave."

"You can't have hit puberty yet. You're too young," I stated. Charles looked back up at me, no disappointment showing in his dark eyes.

"Father, how old am I?" he asked. I paused for a minute.

"Eleven," I said. He shook his head slowly, his eyelids still lowered.

"I'm going to be thirteen in a month."

He turned and walked away, and I noticed for the first time that his voice was deeper than I remembered. Charles walked out the door and shut it behind him. If he was upset about that, he didn't let it show. I couldn't help but sigh and think back to my ex-wife's words.

* * *

He was thirteen when he became a womanizer. And I witnessed it.

I had come home from a business trip at one in the morning and discovered that Charles wasn't home. I called his cell phone, and there wasn't an answer. I figured that he was hanging out with Nate, so I just watched some TV and relaxed. At about two fifteen, Charles entered the door--with a teenage girl who looked two years older than he. I gaped as I saw the two of them, but they didn't see me. Charles grabbed the bimbo by the waist and pressed himself against her. He kissed her on the mouth, and I watched as his tongue played with her lips.

"Oh my God, you are _so _not a virgin," the girl said. Her cheeks were flushed.

"What, you thought I was?" my son asked, smirking cockily. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear, she and giggled. My eyes went wide as I saw his hand move from her lower back up to her hair, and then down her shoulder towards her chest.

"Having fun?" I asked loudly. He pulled himself off of her and looked at me, shocked beyond belief. So was his little friend.

"I thought you said he was on a business trip!" the girl exclaimed.

"He was!" Charles exclaimed back. He sighed, glancing from me to the girl. "You'd better leave. This scene is going to be a huge turn off." The girl obliged and left. Charles turned to face me again, knowing he was about to get yelled at.

"Charles, how could you?!" I asked. I was more surprised than enraged. My son just smiled.

"Come on, father. If there's one thing I've learned from you it's that this is the only way to live."

"I have never taught you to run around with any women you want!" I exclaimed, getting angry because of the accusation. Charles laughed mockingly.

"You think I'm blind to all the women I see getting into your limo? Give me some credit, father. I'm not stupid," Charles said. I knew that. I noticed that he still wore the scarf around his neck.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked. "I heard you distinctly say you're not a virgin anymore." He smiled and folded his arms.

"You don't want to know," he said. I walked forward briskly, and his smile faded. I grabbed him by the shoulders and looked down at him furiously.

"Tell me, damn it! When did you start?!" I asked. He looked away from me.

"Two days after my birthday," Charles answered. I dropped my arms, looking at that soft face. All of these years I thought that he had done well without me. I looked back at the bad grades, the drinking, and now this. I asked myself how I could've been so blind. My son stood there, still looking away from me. He had the brains, the looks, and the money to be successful in life. He even had the overconfident attitude. But it wasn't enough.

"Do you realize how disgraceful this is?!" I asked, outraged. "I do not work myself so that you can run around with girls and drink and slack off in life! And I'm not paying for STD treatments!"

"Yeah, you're a true saint," Charles said bitterly. He looked up at me, and I stared right into those dark eyes. "You did the same things when I was your age."

"Stop saying that!" I exclaimed angrily. "I didn't have the resources to know better. You do! You just never try to better yourself!"

"I _do _try! You're just too busy off elsewhere to notice when I'm trying to get your approval!" he yelled back. His eyes started flaring. "I'm nothing different then what you are. You even told me yourself that women will leave you. And you know what? You're right. So I'm just doing things with them the way you do."

Finding no words, I hit him the way I hit Misty that one night. Except this time, I meant it. He looked back up at me, and I was expecting to see the hurt eyes that my wife gave me. Instead I saw a look of menace and hatred combined with the dark color. It made him look almost evil. He spun around, nearly whipping me in the face with the extended end of the scarf. He walked to the door.

"Charles," I called.

The door slammed, and he was gone. I went back to the couch and sat down. I shut off the television. All I could think about was how much Charles had failed me. I remembered him at nine years old, standing in front of the mirror. Back when his pale face was still young and his mannerisms were still bright and innocent.

_"I want to be like you," _his small voice echoed in my head. My face fell when I realized that he had. He hadn't failed me--I had failed him. I regret that every day.

I lied down and stretched across the couch, thinking about how it would have never happened if Misty had taken him with her. Instead of giving him a wholesome life with her, I kept him in New York for the future of my name and my business. I had put my own interests ahead of my child. I cursed myself and my selfish pride, knowing that now it was too late to do anything. The angel had fallen, and it was entirely my fault.

Charles didn't come back home that night. When I called him from the business meeting, he answered slurred, and I heard two female voices in the background. I would have wept had I found the courage to do so in front of the businessmen--or to do so without them there.

* * *

Charles stayed that way throughout his teenage years. He became a smart aleck, a player, the boy who the others wanted to punch the daylights out of. The maid quit because he brought so many girls home and she couldn't deal with it anymore. I didn't blame her. Besides, Charles was older now, and he already made it clear that he didn't need help. He and I lived two separate lives, even though we technically lived under the same roof.

He graduated eighth grade-another ceremony I missed-and went to St. Jude's. He continued to fail classes and get detentions. I continued to travel, never hearing from him. When he was seventeen I bought the Palace Hotel and we moved there--or, he did at least. He grew more attractive and debonair as he aged, making more than a few ladies' heads turn. He never dated though. He used them and left them, just like I had done.

I worried about him. I worried more than I ever had before in my life. During the day I wondered what class he was in and what he was thinking. At night I wondered which club he was at. In my anxious dreams I saw him sitting at a bar in a pressed black suit (the scarf draped around his neck), smiling as a few girls walked by. I often wanted to call him but I figured he wouldn't want to talk to me. One morning I came home and hosted a brunch at the Palace. I noticed that Charles had a black eye.

"Are you alright?" I asked him. "Are you in some sort of trouble?" He smirked.

"Only of my own making."

I never tried to stop him because not only was it too late, but it would take forever to make up for seventeen years of neglect and hurt. I would have to quit business altogether. When I started dating Lily Van Der Woodsen, all I thought about was my son. A stepmother is not as good as the original, but she may be better than nothing.

There was one time when I became so proud of him and it looked like things were changing. He approached me with the idea for investing in Victrola, and I couldn't believe the genius behind the plan. He almost convinced me not to do it, but then he convinced me again _to_ do it, if that makes sense. After that night, he seemed happier. I had a feeling it was something else besides the investment, because he was smiling more than normal when I came home and saw him. He also didn't talk about the girls he had bedded the night before. I thought possibly he had stopped sleeping around, but I got that thought out of my head.

There was one moment, though, that defined all others. It was a week before Christmas, and I was at a meeting when suddenly my phone rang. I apologized to the others present, forgetting that I had left it on. Then I looked and saw who was calling. I excused myself and left the board room. I answered the call.

"Charles? Is it you?" I asked.

"Yes, it's me," my son answered back. I smiled, not remembering the last time he had called me.

"How was a cotillion?" I asked. I had remembered the big event was taking place that night. Lily's mother was the head of the entire thing.

"It was interesting," Charles replied. "I'm not interrupting your meeting, am I?"

"No, no," I said. "Is something wrong?"

"Everything's fine. I'm in the limo now." There was a long pause. "Father…can I ask you a favor?" Charles asked.

"Certainly," I answered.

"Can I go somewhere for Christmas? Maybe somewhere warm?"

"Of course, but why?" I asked. He sighed.

"I just need to get away." I detected the trembling in his voice, although he was probably trying to hide it. I didn't scold him for it.

"Charles, you sound shaken. Are you sure you're alright?" I asked. I couldn't help but think that something went wrong at the cotillion. Charles never cried, especially to me, and that sure sounded like what he had been doing.

"Trust me father, everything's fine," he replied. His voice was normal and assuring. I wondered if I had just imagined that he was upset. "It's the snow and the cold. It's bringing me down a little." He lived that way his whole life and never complained. He loved New York. I knew that wasn't the reason, but I ignored it, deciding not to push him further.

"Monaco's always a nice place," I offered. "Sunshine and skinny girls in bikinis should make you feel better." He laughed slightly, his deep voice flowing and gentle. It was a nice thing to hear.

"Thanks, father," Charles said. You can always tell when someone's smiling when they talk to you over the phone. I knew he was.

"You're welcome; remember to be careful," I advised.

"I will, I promise."

"Charles?"

"Yes?" he asked. I didn't believe what I was about to say.

"I love you."

It was the first time I ever told my son that I loved him. I truly meant it, too. It's terrible that it took me so long to realize that I did, but I did. There was a short pause on the other end of the line, and I wasn't sure what Charles would respond back. I was sure that he would ask "since when" or just hang up the phone. If I were him, I probably would have done that.

"I love you too."

And that's how I discovered that really, he wasn't me.

He was someone better.

END OF PART 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, it took me a while 2 get this chapter up. Sorry guys! I've been so busy with school and all. Anyway, here's the next chapter.**

**Fallen Angels: Part Two**

I saw her friendships grow and fall apart--from the very beginning.

I still remember that day in the limousine. I had a meeting with a representative from Chanel in an hour, but I had just enough time to see my daughter off on her first day of school. She sat next to me, looking like a little porcelain doll. Her brown curls fell to her shoulders, and her fluffy pink and white dress made her look like a girl from Victorian times. Her cheeks were flushed red, and her eyes were glossed over with nervousness. I sat with my hands on my skirt, manicured fingers folded, speaking not a word.

The limo slowed to a stop. I looked outside at the large, pristine elementary school. A bunch of little ones hung around by the playground, and I figured they were the preschoolers. My husband put his arm around my daughter and gave her a smile.

"Don't be nervous, Blair Bear. Just be yourself, and you'll make lots of new friends."

"Really?" Blair asked, her face brightening a little at his confidence.

"Of course," Harold assured. "They'll love you just as much as I do." I opened the door on my side and patted her hand gently. I kept my face firm. She looked dejected suddenly, probably because I didn't seem happy. Really I was; I was just trying to keep myself from tearing up. She was growing up too fast.

"Be good, Blair," I said. "And don't get your dress dirty." She nodded, then squeezed past me and out the limo's open door. I watched her go, clutching a tiny Audrey Hepburn style purse as she walked towards the other kids at the playground. I observed as she looked back and forth, looking determined but secretly intimidated. She would forever be that way. A little girl with long blonde hair walked eagerly up to her, smiling widely.

"Hi! I'm Serena. What's your name?" I heard the girl ask. I smiled at her energy. My daughter held out her little hand.

"I'm Blair Waldorf." I laughed a little, cracking a smile. She would always be formal, too. Suddenly I felt a warm hand on my leg. I turned and saw my husband's smiling face staring back at me. His glistening brown eyes, the ones that Blair inherited, always managed to warm my heart.

"There goes our little girl," Harold stated. I sighed and leaned into his shoulder.

"Yes, there she goes," I replied, rubbing his hand.

A few days later, Blair asked me if Serena could come over to our penthouse for a play date. I completely agreed, seeing that my daughter already was social like myself. When Serena came over, I met her mother. I had no idea that I would be seeing her mother so much more as the years went by.

My daughter and her friend went up to her room, and I went to a study where I could make a few phone calls. About an hour later, I heard some angry footsteps down the stairs, and I heard Blair shouting something in a quivering voice. I walked out to the hall but I didn't make my presence known. I just watched the two girls at the foot of the stairs, getting in each other's faces.

"I told you, you can have the blue shoes, but I get Prince Nate!" Blair exclaimed.

"But…I want Prince Nate…" Serena said meekly. I noticed for the first time that they were dressed up in princess costumes from Blair's dress-up trunk (that her father had lovingly purchased for her). Blair looked like she was about to cry. Serena's confused face turned saddened. "Blair, you can have Nate. Let's just not fight anymore, okay?" Blair sniffled, then smiled.

"Thanks Serena." She looked towards the kitchen. "Do you want to go see if Dorota finished baking those cookies?"

"Sure!" Serena exclaimed. "Race you!" She began to take off towards the kitchen.

"I can't run in a dress! It's not proper!" Blair called out in her little voice as she followed her friend. I shook my head and smiled. I knew Nate Archibald was a boy in their class, but I had no idea that the fighting over boys would have started so soon.

Blair loved Nate right away. Whenever I would buy her a new dress, she would ask me if Nate would think that she would look pretty in it. Then she would hop on her bed in her new dress, giggling and talking about how she would marry Nate one day. Her dreams went from pink castles to white picket fences, but they always involved Nate as her husband. I never usually dropped her off in the morning, but on the rare occasions that I did, I would see her run to the cute little blonde boy, calling him Natie and hopping gracefully to his side.

He began to come over for play dates too. I discovered that he was a quite shy child, very self-reserved. Sometimes Serena came over with Nate, sometimes not. There was one time when Blair invited Nate, Serena, and Charles Bass over. Charles, better known as Chuck, was an adorable boy. I wasn't home the first time they all came over together, but Harold told me that he could tell that Chuck had an affection for our little girl. He had gotten up to get her a diet soda when she didn't feel like getting up, and he constantly had a smitten smile on his face whenever he talked to her.

Blair always loved Nate, though. I saw her sneak in little kisses on each of his cheeks after he lied down after a rough game of tag. When she was a first-grader, Dorota would often tell me about how she was angry at Serena for stealing Nate from her at recess, or at Nate for ditching her game of red rover to play with Serena. If Chuck's name was ever mentioned, it was how she went to play with him after Nate left her.

As surprising as it sounds, those were the good old days. Everyone was young, naive, and close-knit. Blair never had to worry about anything except Nate ditching her playground games, and even that would get worse. And all I did was stand to the side and watch.

I became stricter with my daughter as she got older, especially in the way of food. Dorota no longer baked cookies when her friends came over. It was always a platter of carrots or celery. Dinner started to mainly consist of salads. Yogurt replaced ice cream. I really didn't think about how much it would affect Blair. I just wanted her to look perfect. Not for me…well, yes for me. The fashion designer's daughter couldn't be overweight; my image would be forever tainted. But I also didn't want her to struggle with obesity. In my world, the chunky girls were never popular. Blair lives in the same world I did when I was young, one that's obsessive and cruel. It's the same circus, different clowns.

I also told her to be perfect in her schoolwork. I often threatened her, saying that if there was anything lower than a B on her report card, I wouldn't buy her the shoes she wanted, the dress she saw, etc. Blair was always a big shopper.

Whenever I became this way, she ran to Harold in tears. He would always take her in his loving arms and look at me with eyes that looked like they could shoot daggers. As soon as he calmed her down and sent her away, I would get the usual lecture about how I was breaking her young spirit and putting too much pressure on her.

He just didn't understand. The last thing I wanted was to see my daughter in tears. I was doing it for her own good, not to hurt her. She took it the wrong way, though. Harold was always her favorite parent. I was convinced that in the end, I would turn out to be right. Mother always knows best.

"She'll thank me when she's thin and smart and all the men want her," I would tell Harold. Then I would smile and give him a playful jab. "Especially her little Archibald friend."

I was never actually home to see her grow up. I discovered that Dorota became the mother figure in Blair's life. She would tell Dorota everything about her day: all the arguments, the Nate stories, everything. Even the gossip she had heard from Kati Farkas and Isabella Coates, those two flighty friends, got to Dorota before me. I would sometimes come home, ask Blair how she was doing, and all I would receive in response was the casual "fine, mother." I would later go to Dorota for more details.

There was one story, however, that did get to me. Blair was in fifth grade, and I had been home one day because I wasn't feeling well. I remember Blair coming home, looking as though she had seen a ghost.

"Mom…you'll never guess what happened," she said.

"What is it, dear? And is it as bad as this terrible head cold I have?" I asked. She paused for a minute, as if the words she were about to speak were too horrific to be heard.

"I kissed Chuck."

I sat up, looking at her questioningly.

"Chuck Bass?" I asked. She nodded. "How did that happen? I thought you and Nate were together." Yes, the pre-teen dating had begun, and I was all for it. Nate was a fine boy from a well-respected family, and if he gave Blair credentials I was all for it. Another great mistake in my parenting. I couldn't stop her though, even if I wanted to. She was convinced that she was in love.

"We were," Blair said. She sighed before speaking again with hurt in her voice. "Then I saw him and Serena under the purple-flowered tree outside of the front of the school today. They were holding hands and looking at one another. I could see Serena laughing flirtatiously from where I was standing. I began to walk over to them, and I was nearly halfway there when suddenly Nate leaned over and kissed Serena on both cheeks."

"Blair, it was probably just a friendly peck," I said with an eye roll. She overreacts to a lot of things now, and she did so back then as well.

"No mom, you don't understand!" Blair's voice became strained, and she looked like she was about to burst into tears. "That's _our _kiss! I've kissed him on both cheeks since we were little! Nate knows that! Serena knows that!" She turned away from me and tried to hold back tears. I thought about how much more my head was hurting after all of this.

"Don't be so upset, Blair. You and Nate have fought before, and you always work it out." The Archibalds had become good friends of mine, and I doubted they would allow anything rash to take place. "Now what happened with Charles?" I asked curiously. Blair didn't turn back around. She was silent for a few moments before speaking.

"Well, I walked up to the both of them and started screaming, saying that I never wanted to speak to either of them again. I walked away and ran to the little flower garden on the side of the school. A bench is there, and no one ever goes there, so I thought it would be a good place to be alone. I went there and I started crying, and suddenly I heard a boy's voice call my name. I looked up, and he was there."

"Did he come sit next to you?" I asked. She nodded, finally turning back around.

"I told him about everything, and he sat and listened. He told me he was really sorry, and he reached over and gave me a hug. We didn't talk for the longest time, we just sat there and I kept crying. I finally stopped and looked up at him, and he looked back. Then we just kinda moved in and…it happened."

"And then?" I asked, slightly amused.

"I jumped up, after getting over the shock. Then I ran away," Blair said. I looked at her quizzically.

"Why would you do that?" I asked. She gazed back at me like I was stupid.

"Mom! I love Nate. I can't be kissing other guys! Especially not Nate's best friend!"

"It doesn't look like _he's_ obeyed that rule," I said. She was silent for a few moments.

"We both made a mistake," Blair said, immediately blaming herself along with Nate. "He'll say he's sorry, and I just won't say anything about Chuck. Then we'll move on, like we always do. Because we love each other, and that's how it's always been when we've messed up." I couldn't help but wonder if she was trying to convince herself of her last sentence instead of me. She started walking away, and I smiled.

"If it helps, I've always liked that Charles. His father's rich, and he's always been there for you," I said. The Archibalds were well-connected with us, no doubt, but the Basses had money. Blair turned around and gasped, looking at me as if I had just told her the world was coming to an end.

"That just may be the most absurd thing you've ever said!" she exclaimed.

"Why?" I asked. She paused, deep in thought, and she averted my incessant gaze.

"Because I don't love Chuck. I could never love anyone but Nate."

She turned and walked away. I fell asleep, thinking away from her drama and more towards the bra designs I was working on.

That was my daughter's first kiss.

I have mentioned before about how strict I became with Blair. I guess you could say that I only became worse. And it was what led to my perfect world to come crashing down.

When Blair was in sixth grade, Serena really blossomed into a pretty girl. Her nice personality added to her character. Blair began to come home complaining about how Serena was beginning to get all the attention from everyone--even more so than before. My answers were never that consoling.

"Mom, they all like Serena because she's thin."

"Well, maybe if you got on the treadmill more you'd get attention, too."

"Mom, Serena's hair is gorgeous. I just have this mess of curls."

"Would it make you feel better if I let you get it dyed?"

"Mom, Serena came in late today, and all anyone could talk about was how pretty she looked. No one heckled her or anything."

"Maybe you'd get the same reaction if you mixed up your style once and awhile."

I'm a very critical individual. I like everything to be perfect; Blair got that trait from me most certainly. Though I rarely told her, I thought my daughter was perfection. However, if Serena was getting all the attention, then she needed to step everything up a little. My consistent compliments to Serena whenever she came over didn't help matters. That was step one to my world falling to pieces in my hands.

The second came in one night. I came home from a meeting (with a close, male model friend of mine, Roman). Blair was still out at a party, and the whole house was quiet. Harold was peacefully asleep upstairs, so I went to the couch and picked up a Mary Higgens Clark book to read. I was halfway through a chapter when Blair burst through the doors, crying her eyes out.

"Oh my goodness Blair, what is it now?" I asked exaggeratedly.

"Nothing!" She tossed her purse to the side and walked into the kitchen. As soon as I heard the freezer open, I immediately got up and ran to her.

"What are you doing?!" I asked. She pulled out the container of her father's favorite ice cream: double chocolate with peanut butter.

"I'm starving, I'm eating something!" Blair said. I grabbed it from her hands and looked down at her sternly.

"Not this, you aren't. Get a fruit bar and tell me what happened," I said. She glared at me, obviously frustrated, and then talked with a shaky voice.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, warning me to back off. I didn't.

"Blair, don't hide things from your mother. Tell me."

"You won't understand. It's something with Nate," Blair said, trying to walk past me. I stood in her way, not letting her go.

"If it involves the child of some of my closest friends and rich allies, then I need to know everything," I stated formally. Blair dropped her arms to her side and sighed irritably.

"Nate and I are over, okay?! We're through!" She quickly whipped the ice cream out of my hands.

"Blair!" She pushed past me, and I chased her. "Come back here! Why are you and Nate over with?" She got to the stairs and turned around to look at me. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

"He was dancing too close with Serena! He was dancing too close, and he was flirting too much, and he had no good excuse to give me. There, are you happy?!" Blair started stomping up the stairs again, and I followed her. I knew there was more to the story, but I decided to play off of what she offered me.

"You can't let one mistake ruin this long of a relationship!" I exclaimed, thinking only of my connections with Mr. and Mrs. Archibald.

"It's not just this mom, it's everything! He's messed up too many times!" Blair ran to her room and slammed the door. I grasped the handle and tried to open it, but she had locked it.

"Don't be foolish, Blair! And stop screaming, do you want to wake your father?!" I asked. There came no reply, just some loud sobs and the sounds of a filled spoon coming out of a carton. I sighed. "I'm sure he didn't mean to do what he did. You're overreacting again."

"No I'm not! I'm through with him!" Blair exclaimed.

"You're angry, that's why you're saying this," I shot back. "Don't do something we'll regret. You know you love Nate." Looking back, I wish I could've found it in my heart to support her and tell her that she did the right thing. But I can't turn back the hands of time. I didn't console her. I just stood on the other side of the door, listening and finally hearing silence fall. I remember a quote from a famous movie saying that silence is the most powerful cry. In this case I completely agreed.

The next morning, Blair woke up and came downstairs, a satisfied smile on her face.

"I think you're right, mom. I was angry at Nate last night, but I do love him. I'm going to go talk to him and make things right between us," Blair said. I smiled.

"See Blair? I'm always right. When will you learn to listen to me?" She smiled halfheartedly, holding back a comment. Then she turned and left with a hop in her step. I sipped my morning coffee with low fat cream, thinking about how everything was going to be alright.

Months later, I discovered that Blair had bulimia. I caught her throwing up her dinner of lobster bisque. She told me that it began on that one evening, when she had forced herself to throw up the ice cream.

I couldn't believe it. When I first walked in and saw her, my heart hurt. I insisted on getting her some help right away, and got the best counselors in New York--discreetly, of course. Harold went with her to these meetings; I was always far too busy. One night, Harold approached me, and we argued for the first time in years. He wondered if I even cared about helping Blair get well, since I was always away. He didn't know about the dinners I ate alone, far away from them, wishing that I was home to encourage her to eat. He didn't know that for a little while, I could hardly look at myself, fearing deep down that it was all because of my pressuring attitude (combined with the need to get Nate back) that she was sick.

I did care. More than he would ever know. However, I didn't stop the strictness. At the time, all I could think about was my image. I couldn't crack, and I especially couldn't let anyone know the reason why I could crack.

That was the first of numerous times that Blair broke up with Nate and then got back together with him. He was at every party, every large event, every celebration. He bought her things she wanted when they went out. Sometimes when I was home, I would see her kissing him goodbye before he left. He would always smile sweetly, and tell her that he loved her. For some reason, I never thought he was sincere. I pushed that feeling away, telling myself that he wouldn't have stayed with her this long if he didn't feel the way she did.

By the time of eighth grade graduation, Nate had become a very attractive young man. He was more talkative than he was when he was younger, and very polite. Many people told me that my daughter and the Archibald son made the perfect couple. At Blair's graduation party, when I was off talking to the adults, he bought her a dozen roses. She had accepted his generous gift with a smile and a glass of wine in her other hand. I had allowed her to start drinking, because it made her look more sophisticated.

When I had a moment, I thought about the two of them being together forever. The Archibalds were the type to discuss early marriage, and they had repeatedly told me how much they loved Blair. I would try to picture that little house with the picket fence that Blair had fantasized about when she was younger. I tried to picture her and Nate holding hands as they walked to the front door, letting their kids in before they kiss gently and follow them. And somehow, I could never see it.

Blair planned a lot of parties as she got older, usually with Serena. She climbed up the societal ladder, like I always had planned she would. I made sure it stayed that way. I remained the same kind of mother, one who wanted to keep her popular and perfect. I tried to design clothes with her in mind, but I often found myself not getting any inspiration. I sometimes questioned if it was because of lack of knowing who my own daughter truly was. I sometimes thought that it was because I was too busy molding a perfect model instead of opening up to her. Then I would ignore that thought and go onto another design.

I didn't change. That doesn't mean everyone else didn't. When my daughter entered high school, things were much different. Blair wouldn't tell me anything, but I managed to find out that Serena had turned slut, that Charles had become a womanizer, and that other children my daughter had gone to school with had become drug addicts. It was almost disheartening, watching these children who had everything just throw it all away. I was glad that Blair didn't turn out to be the worst of the bunch--in that sort. Yes, she changed too. As she got older she became more impatient and easily irritated with me. We rarely argued; most likely because I was never home to argue. But when I would remind her about her future at Yale or anything that demanded something of her, I often saw displeasure in her eyes.

As much as some things changed, some things stayed the same. They argued frequently, but Blair and Serena remained best friends. They still shopped, went to parties, and ate croissants and watched "Breakfast at Tiffany's" every Sunday morning. I loved that Blair still had a best friend she could rely on, even if Serena had become more promiscuous. She was still loyal. There was someone else who remained loyal to my daughter: Charles. Whenever I did see the two of them and Nate hanging out, he didn't look at her the way he did when he was younger. He was, though, always there for her. She would mention him off-handedly sometimes, especially when Nate got on Blair's bad side for a day.

"Nate was acting weird today, so I met with Chuck for lunch."

"That was Chuck. He said Nate's sick from his hangover last night and won't be over for awhile. But Chuck will be here in a few."

"Of course I'm inviting Chuck! God S, just because you hate him doesn't mean everyone else does. The whole world doesn't exactly do what Serena Van Der Woodsen wants all the time."

Yes, I can recall many of those moments. She and Charles were always close. I mentioned her first kiss to her one morning at breakfast, because she was talking about the trampy woman that Charles had taken home the night before. She had rolled her eyes.

"Mom, don't mention that," she told me.

"Why not? I've always said that I've always liked him. You two have a lot in common." She looked at me as if I were comparing an angel to a demon.

"He's a cocky pervert," she said vehemently.

"Yet you hang out with him," I stated. She stirred the yogurt that she held in her hand and looked down into it.

"Chuck doesn't care about anyone. He uses everyone he knows to benefit himself in some way." She continued mixed up the yogurt. "It's too bad."

"Why is that?" I asked. Blair grinned as she lifted the spoon to her lips.

"Because he's a hot cocky pervert. And he's crafty. I like that in a man."

I never asked her why she said that, when Nate was supposed to be the apple of her eye. She never spoke of Chuck affectionately to me ever again.

In sophomore year, when Serena left, Blair was crushed. Or so Harold and Dorota told me. It's still unclear to me just why she left. A lot of things in Blair's life have always been unclear to me. All I know is that Serena left without saying goodbye, and that no one on the Upper East Side heard from her again until she returned at the beginning of junior year.

Harold told me that Blair was very upset for those first few weeks, and I could see why. She did have Nate or Chuck or Kati or Isabel to talk with, yes. However, if there's one thing I know about dating, it's that sometimes you need your space and you don't want to tell your boyfriend all of your pain. I never considered Kati and Isabel truly faithful. While Chuck was always there for Blair, he couldn't take the place of Serena. Every girl needs a best friend who's like a sister to them. Someone they can go get manicures with and someone they can tell anything to. None of the above people I've mentioned could fill that void.

As if that weren't bad enough, something else happened that terrible summer. The final factor that made a mockery out of my life. It was just as Blair was making progress with her problem, too.

Harold approached me one evening after I got home from a meeting, and dropped the bomb saying that he had fallen in love with Roman. I couldn't believe my ears. I still remember me breaking down and crying in front of him, screaming. It was a good thing Blair wasn't home--the last thing I needed was for her to see me lose it.

He tried to calm me down, but I wouldn't let him. I collapsed on the couch, heaving and sobbing heavily. I swore and I raged, something that I don't think I have ever done again. I told him just to leave, and not to worry about me. Harold walked upstairs and got his baggage. When he came back downstairs, he looked at me, not showing enough remorse.

"I'm sorry, Eleanor," he told me. "We'll still always be friends. We have to be, for Blair."

Then he left me pathetically bawling, crying out as if I were about to die.

I still shake when I remember the things I said to him in anger. I still tear up when I think about how he left me for a _man_. Not just any man either--my good friend. The shame I felt was unbelievable. I get sick to my stomach when I think back to how he smiled at me, when he held my hand gently, when he kissed me, and then I realize that he's doing the same to _Roman._ I still wonder if he was lying when he said he loved me all those years, or if I had done something that made him do what he did. I loved him with my whole heart, but apparently that wasn't enough. I never would have told him so, but I would have given my life for him had he ever been in trouble. That was how much I loved my husband. It hurt so much to know he wouldn't have done the same for me.

When I told Blair where her father had gone and who he was now, she screamed and ran to her room in tears. She was still upset about Serena being gone, and now to have her father gone too was even worse. She truly loved him. When I saw her run, all I could do was be angry at Harold for leaving her when she loved him so much. I was saddened by Harold's sudden absence, but she was even more. He was her father, for Christ's sake.

When I went up to check on her, she wouldn't let me in. I walked past Dorota as I was going down the hall, and my heart fell when I saw her gaining entrance to my daughter's room.

I thought Blair would be perfect, yet my obsession to make her perfect made her sick. I thought that Harold and I would be together forever, and now I'm single once again. I remembered telling myself how right I would be in the end and that everything would go my way.

Mother knows best.

What a joke.

I never showed the world the sadness that I held deep inside. Inside my mind was screaming, begging me to let my feelings out. I ignored it, knowing that my image in front of my daughter and my associates was more important than my emotional health. I was successful and rich; all I had to do was convince everyone else that I was feeling perfect, too. I became quite good at that. No one ever asked me about Harold after I told them what happened. I committed more of my time to work, so that I couldn't go home and think about Blair throwing up. My designs were becoming some of the best in New York.

When Serena surfaced the day she returned at a social gathering, and I couldn't have been happier. I knew that Blair and she would be the best of friends once again. A few days later, I went on a lovely but lonely trip to Paris. When I came back home in the morning, Serena came through my penthouse door, talking about how she and Blair were going shopping that morning. I felt ecstatic. It was like no time had gone by.

Serena even encouraged that Blair should model my new clothing line. I thought it was a brilliant idea. I was in desperate need of a model. Blair had kept her thinness, and I thought she would look perfect in the clothes I had designed. Blair looked so happy when my advisors agreed that she could model. She and Serena smiled and shouted excitedly, and Blair's face broadened in delight. I smiled. My daughter, my fashion model. I was so proud of her then.

Then came the photo shoot. I wasn't there, but when I first saw the pictures, I was horrified. Blair looked so stiff, so unenthusiastic. That was not the message I wanted to send at all. I fidgeted with my glasses as I glanced at the photos over and over again. I didn't understand it. She was always perfection. Why not now?

"Your girl is rigid like a twig," one of my male associates told me. I stared at the glossy photo in disbelief. "She's afraid to let you in, so your works of art and she fail to achieve…" He couldn't find the last word. His words struck a chord with me as I realized how true it was. She just didn't let me in with fashion, but with her whole life.

"Symbiosis," the words fell from my lips. Pushing away my thoughts about my normal life, I turned my attention back to the photo shoot. "What can be done at this stage?"

"Your daughter is beautiful, but this girl…" My associate pulled out pictures of Serena in front of a silver backdrop, looking joyful. "_T__his_ girl…has it." They talked about letting Serena be the model, but left the choice up to me.

I think it was the most selfish act that I have ever performed in all my years of living. I knew how angry Blair would be when she found out, but I also knew that eventually she would forgive me. She couldn't be angry her entire life. With that in mind, I agreed to let Serena model my line. I knew how much Blair hated that everyone else thought Serena was better than her. They all chose her best friend to be the center of their gossip universe, and now I was choosing her to be the center of my fashion universe. I continued to not think about Blair or her feelings and just thought about getting through the next day.

When that morning came, the result that I was trying to run from caught up with me. Blair discovered that I lied to Serena about she and Blair being in the shoot together. When Blair approached me, her voice was like it usually was when she was angry with me: edgy and annoyed. Her eyes were big as she looked at me, demanding an explanation why I lied.

"You could've picked a stranger," Blair said bitterly. "You didn't have to choose my best friend. Did you think I wouldn't find out?" I could tell that she wanted to explode at me but was holding back. I tried to explain my actions, but that only made me sound more terrible than I already was.

"I knew that in time you would forgive me. But if I lost this deal because of you, I'd never forgive myself," I said. I knew they were harsh words, but I knew she could handle it. When was I ever gentle with her? Then I saw a hardened glaze come across Blair's eyes, and her face looked solemn and cold.

"I hope you never do," she said sharply. Then she turned and walked away. I looked after her as she went, my mouth suspended open. Her words echoed in my mind repeatedly for the next week as the guilt sank in even more.

I never did forgive myself, and I still haven't.

Blair turned seventeen, and she hosted a party for herself, by herself. I never made it to the event. Thanksgiving approached, a hard time indeed. It was always my favorite holiday because I spent it with my two favorite people, my daughter and my husband. This time would be the first without Harold. Or, I made sure that Harold didn't appear. I called him and said that Blair didn't want to see him. The truth was that I hadn't looked at the divorce papers he had sent me, and that I couldn't bear seeing him. It was much too soon. It's ironic; the year before I had invited Roman to join us for dinner. Little did I know that he would be spending every Thanksgiving with my husband from then on.

When Blair found out I had told Harold that, she went crazy. I hadn't expected her to act so irrationally. He _had _left her; I was expecting her to be as reluctant to see him as I was. Instead she ran up to her room. I didn't follow her, running away from my problems the way I always have. When Serena showed up moments later, I knew what had happened. I got up from the table and went to the hall for a moment, only to see the two headed for the elevator. Blair stared back at me, disappointed and hate-filled. Then she followed Serena into the elevator. I stood there and sighed, wondering who she had learned that stare from. She was never vulnerable around me, the one person she should feel comfortable to be vulnerable in front of. Whenever she looked at me lately she didn't seem hurt or in need of help, but in need of vengeance. I sadly walked back to the dining room.

When she returned, I was in the kitchen, thinking about everything. Last year at Thanksgiving I had been on top of the world. I had my husband, my money, even my daughter was at the table with me. Now I only had the money to count on, and money's a very lonely dinner date. Blair looked at me sadly and told me where she had been. I looked up at her round, white face, and for a moment I saw that four year old hopping out of my limousine.

"Mom, are you alright?" she asked me. She sounded sincere. I sighed, thinking back to the day of the photo shoot. I remembered the words of my advisor. I was tired of it. I was through with not being honest with her. The whole reason she wasn't open to me is because I never set the example to be otherwise.

"No, I'm not alright," I said. That was when I admitted to her how truly sad I was about Harold. I cried, not being able to hold it in any longer. Blair ran over to me and hugged me, the first time she had done so in what felt like years. I patted her on the back, realizing how tall she had gotten. My daughter had grown up so fast without me, and it was my own fault for missing out.

"Mom, it's okay," she assured calmly. We stood there hugging, two girls who loved and lost the same man. As soon as we stopped hugging, I felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. We sat down and ate leftover cookies and talked, the first time we had the chance to in such a long time. Blair reminded me of old Thanksgivings, and told me about school, and what _really _happened when Serena first came home. I was shocked, but I didn't get mad at her. They were friends again, and that's all that mattered. However, I don't believe I ever looked at Nate Archibald the same way again.

"Mom, look what I got for my birthday," Blair said. "I never showed you." She reached down under the neck of her shirt and displayed a gorgeous diamond necklace. My eyes widened. It looked so delicate that I was afraid it would break if I touched it. I took the risk.

"Was this the other piece you had on hold at the jewelry shop? The one I didn't get you?" I asked. She nodded enthusiastically. I squared my shoulders and smiled. "You knew what Nate was getting you, so why are you so happy?" I asked.

"Oh, Nate didn't get it for me. Chuck did." I couldn't believe my ears.

"Chuck?" I asked. She smiled, her eyes glistening. "I never thought him one to buy you jewelry."

"Well, he did," she said, her smile showing in her tone of voice. She suddenly laughed giddily and bounced off of the kitchen stool, doing a little jump routine. She continued laughing, her face flushing. I was shocked by the sudden display of emotion. She had never acted that way when Nate bought her things.

"Well, you know what I've always said," I said.

"You've always liked Chuck Bass," Blair answered with a bright grin. I smiled back, feeling connected with her for the first time in a long time.

"I'm tired after all of this excitement. How about we settle in and watch a movie?" I asked her.

"Sure! Just let me go change," Blair said. She danced happily out of the room, humming "Moon River" from her favorite movie as she did so.

We stayed close for awhile, even at Christmas when Harold returned with Roman. It was such a good holiday. Not only did Blair forgive her father, but I finally moved on, after I spent the night of my Victoria's Secret Christmas party with a man from a certain Central Park Ice rink. As odd as it sounds, he was much more skilled than Harold. I can admit that with pride.

Blair talked to me more when she came home, and I talked to her. I gave her more of my fashions and she would show them off for me.

"Nate will love you in that," I would tell her, thinking back to when she was a little girl and would ask that question. She would just smile and not reply, which I found odd. I sometimes saw her wearing the diamond necklace just around the house, even though it was formal. A few weeks passed, and soon she was saying "yeah, Nate will die at the sight of me!" once again. Though I still saw her with the necklace.

One chilly January night, I was sitting on my couch and reading, when Blair came to me. I looked up at her and I could tell that she wasn't herself. Instead of approaching me confidently, she looked unsettled, as if she had just seen a massacre take place.

"Mom?" she asked.

"Yes Blair?" I asked back, concerned. I wondered what was wrong. She looked down and sighed, then looked back up at me with tear-filled eyes.

"Can I go to Paris? Now?" she asked. I felt my eyes open widely as the words caught me off guard. She had been talking about visiting her dad over the summer. I couldn't figure out why she had changed her mind to leave now.

"Blair, what happened?" I asked nervously. She fell at my feet and began crying heavily.

"I just need to go…I have to go…"

I reached down and hugged her, and felt like I could almost cry. I thought that we had become more open with each other the last two months. Obviously Blair had hid something that she didn't feel comfortable enough to tell me. Me, her own mother.

"Alright Blair, if that's what you want. We'll have you there on the next flight." What else was I supposed to say? If France would make her happy, then that's where she would go. Lately I had been much more concerned about her well-being instead of my own.

I helped her pack in silence, and I walked her to the door. I gave my daughter one last big hug, as if she were going away forever. I hoped she didn't feel the tears streaming from my eyes into her hair. I blinked them away and kept my voice steady.

"Blair?"

"Yes?"

"Do be careful."

She promised that she would. Then she went to the elevator and pressed the down button. The doors closed and she was gone.

I walked back over to my couch and cried. It seemed like just when I was putting the pieces back together, my puzzle of a life came apart again. I put a pillow under my head and cried myself to sleep, thinking back to the time Harold left so abruptly.

I often wonder if I'll ever get off that couch.

END OF PART II


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so I have two apologies to make to all of my readers. One, I'm sorry it took me so darn long to get this up, and two, sorry that it's so long! School got pretty rough, but I'm on break now so I'll have more time to write! Plus, the next chapter will probably be short and sweet. So without further ado, here's part three. I hope you'll like it! **

**Fallen Angels: Part Three**

An unbroken condom. That's what I blame everything on. 

That sounds insane, I know. Most mothers blame broken condoms for unwanted babies, which can lead to ruined lives. I remember when I woke up next to him, feeling his sweet, warm breath on my neck. The sunlight crept slightly through the slits in the shades and the fan above my head swept a gentle air through the room. The warmth and softness of his body comforted me, and I snuggled in closer. I pressed my side up against his chest, smiling as I remembered back to the previous night. My foot played with his underneath the pale rose sheets of the hotel bed, and he continued sleeping sweetly. I wanted so bad to look over at him, but I couldn't. I felt too heartbroken. Just how _do_ you tell the man you are madly in love with that the only way you two could ever be together was if you had a child? 

I could start from the very beginning, but it's a long story, so I'll cut to when I was a young woman in my early twenties. I say it now and I think about how I'm not that much older. I was in NYU, going for my business degree. My father owned a corporate business and it was already decided that I take it over (being my mother and father's only child). I was a senior and I was near ready to complete college. I lived mostly on my own, despite coming home for my parents' many--and frequent--social gatherings. 

It was actually on a date with another man when I met him. The man was named Rick, and he was a very rich man. And a very boring one. He took me to dinner and I found myself discussing how many olives there were in the jar, and that led to a conversation about the differentiation of black and green olives. It was so painful that I dreaded to where he would take me next. It's funny how I originally dismayed going to the place that would start me on a course I would follow for the rest of my life. Rick took me to a fancy club, and I wondered what he thought he was going to accomplish by taking me there. We had a few drinks and shared an uncomfortable silence. Finally he began to usher me out. Before I could begin to thank God for that, he told me that he wanted to go talk to his friend who was in the band. I agreed, but secretly I screamed until my head popped off. I followed him to behind the building, and through a backstage door. Rick ran over to meet his friend, and I stood off to the side and watched them greet each other. I sighed and pulled out my cell phone to check my messages. 

"Wow, your poor date. I feel sorry for the guy." 

I looked up from my phone's screen and saw a ruggedly handsome face staring right back at me. I was shocked at the audacity he had to appear out of nowhere, yet I was fascinated at the same time. I flipped the phone shut and faced his amused blue eyes. I felt my eyebrows involuntarily rise in interest as I examined his face, which was covered in dark brown stubble.

"Why is that?" I asked. 

"Because you're not into him at all," he replied with a knowing smile. My mouth twitched in a small frown in contrast. 

"You don't know that," I said curtly. He laughed a little. 

"Do you think your eye rolls are hidden from the world?" he asked. I felt my cheeks turn red. 

"Did I really roll my eyes?" I asked. 

"You sure did." The man put his arms down and suddenly lifted them up, and I noticed for the first time that he had a guitar. He brought it up over his dark-brown haired head and smiled when he noticed that I was watching. "Do you like it? It's new." He held it out in his hands for me to see. It was a very beautiful instrument. It was big, shiny and red. It reminded me of a fire engine. 

"It's lovely," I said, staring at it in awe. 

"You can touch it. It won't bust," he said. I laughed slightly at the way he said it, and then put my fingers on one of the red edges. The surface was polished and smooth. I dropped my hand and looked back up at him. 

"Were you onstage already?" I asked him out of inquisitiveness. 

"Yeah, a few minutes ago," he answered. "Obviously you noticed," he added sarcastically. My cheeks turned red again. 

"I apologize," I said. "I was a little preoccupied with…well, you know." 

"I understand." He smiled again, and his eyes glinted at me. "We don't usually come up here, my band and I. We got lucky and found a gig. It's our first time really out of Brooklyn as a group." 

"Really?" I asked. 

"Yeah, and I was wondering if everyone dresses as fancily as you do all the time," he said. I looked down at my wavy black dress, remembering how I thought before I left that it wasn't fancy enough. Then I glanced at what he wore--blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a dark brown leather jacket over it--and I realized what he meant. I smiled at how the shirt complemented his figure, then looked back up at him as not to stare like a lunatic. 

"I guess it seems that way," I replied, feeling spoiled suddenly. He smiled warmly, as if he could read my mind. 

"I don't care. You look nice." I beamed and the compliment and he bent down to put his guitar in its case. When he came back up and faced me again, he was still grinning. "I'm Rufus," he said. "Rufus Humphrey." I couldn't stop blushing. His name was different, yet it was charming. It fit him well. 

"Lillian Rhodes." 

* * *

He gave me his number that night, and I called him two nights later. I had dated many men before, but none who had ever taken me to an art museum for a date. When he told me in his yellow car that we were going to an art gallery in Brooklyn, I became filled with anticipation. He eased that anticipation with pleasant, flirtatious chatter, which I enjoyed greatly. I discovered that we had the same sense of humor: he was very sarcastic and filled with little quips. When we arrived, Rufus got out and came over to the other side of the car to open my door. He took my hand and helped me out. We walked inside, and I grew very intrigued at all of the different paintings and sculptures. I couldn't help but gasp as I laid my eyes upon the art. 

"Rufus…this place is marvelous!" I exclaimed. I saw him smile warmheartedly. He put his arm around my shoulders and walked me through. 

"I had a feeling you would like it," Rufus said. There were many art museums on the Upper East Side, and I had been to a few. But this one was different. The artworks weren't Picassos or classy: they were pure expression. Common people had submitted them all, and they were incredible. There were paintings of random faces and dancing people on a moonlit street, and sculptures based on cultural ideas. Rufus pointed out one figure to me. It stood in the center of the room. It was a globe, painted with black and white stripes. 

"That one is my favorite," he commented. "I would paint music notes on that sculpture if I could."

"Why?" I asked inquiringly. He smiled. 

"Well I'll tell you why, Miss Lily." He put a hand on my shoulder and leaned down close to my ear. He pointed with a flat, sideways hand at the globe. "That sculpture could represent anything you want it to. When I first saw it I thought of racial equality. Then I took a second look and thought of the places I've been to and the places I want to go. The ones I've visited are white and clear in my memory, and the ones I haven't been to remain dark, mysterious, and enticing." I smiled, seeing what he meant. 

"That makes sense. Why would you put music notes on it?" I asked. He stepped back a little and looked me right in the eyes. He smiled playfully, but his sapphire blue eyes seemed like those of a philosopher: serious and reserved. 

"Music is my message to the world," Rufus said. "I'd want my message to be heard." 

I grinned as I took his hand and we walked to another gallery. Never before had I dated someone so unique, and I loved it. After going down a few more halls, Rufus directed me to an outside gallery. We walked out through some large white doors and onto a concrete porch. Ahead was a walk-through garden, with an elaborate water fountain standing in the middle. Tall trees surrounded us, their green leaves draping down like curtains. Bright flowers blossomed out of dewy, grassy patches, their colors showing even under the dark sky. Sculptures stood all around us, looking as if though were sprouting from the ground. Some were angels, others were normal people, and still others were just artsy designs. I walked through it hand-in-hand with Rufus. We stopped admiring the art and took some time just to talk. It was funny, but we whispered our words. 

"This area is so serene," Rufus said. 

"I know," I uttered back. "It's like I'm afraid talking will disturb it." As we talked I discovered the name of his band, and the songs they were planning on recording, and the places they were going to travel. I told him about my parents and about how strict they were, especially my mother. 

"She was terrible during my teenage years. If you only heard the things she would say to me," I told him. He nodded understandingly. It was only my first date with him, and already we knew so much about one another. 

"My parents really never cared what I did, as long as it wasn't drugs," Rufus said. 

"Oh, they wouldn't have liked me in high school then," I admitted, remembering the things I did. I realized what I had said, and wanted to slap myself. I never wanted to push him away, and that comment would have done it. 

"Me neither." I looked at him, and he nodded once slyly. I laughed, comforted once again. We came to the large fountain that shot water up into the air. The refreshing sound of the droplets hitting the water's surface was soothing. We stopped talking and just became in awe of it, and the sound of the droplets echoed throughout the garden. The area was bereft of any other sound; not even a bird chirped. The lights from the pathway lanterns were dim. I looked up at Rufus, who still had his arm wrapped around my shoulders. I leaned my head into his upper chest, needing his warmth. It was chilly outside. 

"What do you think?" Rufus asked, breaking the silence. It sounded like he meant the museum, but I couldn't help but think that he was asking what I thought of him. I smiled and patted his hand softly. 

"I loved it. This was a lovely night," I said. He sighed out of relief, though he tried to hide it from me as best as he could. 

"You say that a lot," he suddenly commented. 

"What?" 

"Lovely," Rufus said back with a little smile at the corners of his mouth. He looked amused. 

"I can't help the way I speak," I said stubbornly, confused as to why he found it funny. 

"How about we don't speak at all?" Rufus asked. The lights of the lanterns danced in his eyes, and I couldn't help but grin. My heart fluttered as I leaned in closer to him, my stomach twisting in excited nervousness. The second his soft lips met mine, the whole world drifted away. It was such a sweet kiss, and I pulled myself into him to get more. His hands wrapped around my waist and my one leg went up as if I was a girl in a romantic movie. I placed my arms around his neck, not wanting it to end. When I pulled away for some air I saw his rounded face in the moonlight. I smiled as I realized I had never felt so dreamy with any of the other men I dated. I had loved one other one before, or at least, I thought I had. The feeling I had around him was nothing like this. 

"That was…" I began. I couldn't find the words. 

"Lovely." His irresistible smirk made me blush. I couldn't believe that he had managed to make me fall in love with him in just one night. 

Then we kissed again. 

* * *

When my parents finally had the time to meet Rufus, we had been dating for eight months. By that time we had become the pair that couldn't be separated. He took me on many memorable dates. Even though we never went anywhere extravagant, I never cared. I just enjoyed being with him. I followed him to every one of his band's concerts and cheered him on from the audience. After it was over I met up with him backstage, and I would pull him somewhere private for a congratulatory make out session. I couldn't get enough of him. He fascinated me so much, cared for me so much, that I could only try my hardest to be as special to him as he was to me. 

Two weeks before Christmas, Rufus was scheduled to head down to Mexico for a concert gig. Before he left, I invited him over to dinner one evening to meet my parents, Catherine Cecilia and Bernard. My father was welcoming to my date, but my mother was her usual cold self. She forever had her nose turned up in the air at someone. Usually that someone was me. Now Rufus had to take the fall, which hurt even more than if she would have directed her disappointment at me. We sat down to a meal of exquisite sushi, and Rufus told my parents everything about himself. He told them about how he was in a band and how he loved to paint. His carefree spirit showed right away, and my mother returned it with intense sternness. I reached for Rufus's hand under the table, knowing how uncomfortable he was. I felt the same way. After we finished and after I escorted my boyfriend out, my mother called me into the parlor to talk. I remember entering slowly, knowing exactly what she was going to say. She sat in an armchair, her one leg crossed over the other, holding a glass of scotch in her right hand. Her harsh, unblinking eyes would have made anyone believe she was a statue. She took a sip of her drink before staring back at me. 

"Lillian, how did you ever get involved with a man like that? You always brought home such nice boys in the past. Ones that were respectable and well-off. And suddenly you begin to date _that_?" 

"He's a human being, mother," I said fiercely, despising the way she referred to him. My mother raised an eyebrow, obviously not liking my tone of voice. My father stood off to the side, looking out the window and smoking a cigar. The smell of tobacco permeated the room. He looked out in silence, letting our exchange pass without a comment. 

"Nevertheless, you will never see him again. You know what kind of a man you need to marry," my mother said. I was shaken by her words, but I didn't let it show. 

"Mother, you can't do that. Number one, I'm an adult now and I can date whoever I want. Number two, I love Rufus, and nothing you can say will ever change that." My mother nodded slowly, which surprised me. I thought she would be taken aback at the last reason. She laid her glass on the wooden side table and laid her hands on her lap. Her icy stare could have frozen Arizona. She laughed once, sarcastically. 

"Love. Yes of course, you're in love with him." Her eyebrows lowered. "Do you honestly think he'll want to put up with your way of life, the life he doesn't fit into? He'll date you for a little while longer, and then he'll come to his senses and see that you two are from completely different worlds. He'll leave you for some wretched Brooklyn girl, Lillian." 

"What if I prefer his life?" I asked, standing my ground. "What if I don't want to be rich and sociable anymore?" At this, my mother's mouth fell into a frown and her eyes turned wide with rage. I stared her down, finally revealing what I had been thinking for a long time. All of the men of the Upper East Side were the same: wealthy and incredibly dull. None had any sense of adventure or humor whatsoever. I was raised to think that I was lucky to be born into such an affluent lifestyle. After I met Rufus, however, the stiff lives of my parents seemed less and less appealing as the days went by. 

"It doesn't matter what you want. You're young and your mind is filled with nonsense. His life is _not _what you want," my mother said sternly. I walked to her determinedly and stood over her. I wasn't going to let her control my life, the way she had been for years. 

"I would rather stand by Rufus's side in a tour bus traveling across the country than co-host a boring social gathering any day," I stated sternly. If she did notice that I wasn't joking, she didn't let it show. I heard my father puff out some more smoke from the cigar. My mother looked at me for a few moments, and then stood up. 

"Like I said before, it really doesn't matter, because you will change your mind. And when you do, William will be waiting." 

"And just _who _is William?" I asked. I was surprised to find she had been playing matchmaker. My mother smiled mockingly, her cold stare remaining. 

"The son of the Van Der Woodsen couple, of course. From last week's soiree?" I thought back to that uneventful night, and I tried to pick out the Van Der Woodsens out of everyone I had met. Eventually their image came to my mind. I remembered a tall man and his short wife standing side-by-side. Their son stood behind them, tall like his father. He had hair as blonde as a California surfer and a drawn-out face. 

"William asked about me?" I asked. My mother continued smiling. 

"All night long he inquired about your life. I had to answer, seeing as you were talking to that hopeless dreamer on the phone all night." She rolled her eyes when she said "hopeless dreamer", and I scowled. "William is very interested in you. While his family is new to the Upper East Side scene, they are very rich and I have a feeling that your marriage to him will be beneficial to both families." At this I had to gasp. 

"You want me to _marry _him?! I don't even know the man!" I exclaimed. I could handle my mother suggesting a man to date, but to marry was an entirely different story. Especially since I didn't ever plan on marrying, and even if I did it would only be to a certain man-with-the-band.

"You will, dear, you will. In time." My mother sat back down, her plaster-like face bright with triumphant glee. "You'll break up with that…that artist, and call up William." 

"And if I don't?" I asked, outraged. 

"You know what will happen if you disobey me." She didn't say it as a threat. She said it almost jovially, as if she was encouraging me to challenge her. I stomped out of the parlor, deciding to accept her challenge. I slammed the door behind me, and neither parent followed me out. I walked up the stairs to my room to pack, pulled out my cell phone, and dialed the one number I knew by heart outside of my own home. 

"Hello, Rufus? You won't believe this, but I'm coming with you to Mexico." 

* * *

The trip to Mexico was the one moment in my life that I think back to every day. I didn't tell Rufus the real reason why I was coming with him, but he never suspected it was because of a fight. I still remember sitting on his lap on the rental bus (that we took down to Tennessee before getting on the plane), bouncing as we hit each bump. I recall my voice blending with his and his friends' as they sang traveling songs. The nights on the bus were the best part. Out there I could see the night sky, not like in stuffy New York were smog covered every star. One night Rufus pointed them out to me. 

"See those?" He nearly tapped the glass of the window with his finger as he pointed. "Seeing those stars has to be my favorite part about traveling." I leaned into his shoulder and he put his arm around me. 

"Remember that poem you wrote me? The one about the night of our first kiss?" I asked him. Rufus laughed a little with a closed mouth. His cheeks turned red with embarrassment. 

"Yes, I remember," he answered. I smiled. 

"I guess there really were no stars then like in the poem, were there?" 

"I suppose not." It didn't matter to me. 

"I'll never forget that one line. It was beautiful." He looked at me questioningly. 

"Which one?" he asked with a curious smile. I blushed as I quoted.

"'I knew right then that you were the star in my eyes, the hop in my step, the key to my heart. The reason why I live'," I quoted. Rufus leaned in and planted a kiss on my cheek. His nose nuzzled my skin as he did so. 

"And it's true," he whispered. I giggled, something that I only did around him. He grabbed a soft blanket nearby and covered me with it. I insisted that he take some, and he did. We spent the whole night just staring out the window at those dots that illuminated their black backdrop. They expressed my mood, for I was as happier than I had ever been before in my life. I was on an adventure with the man I loved, my own shining star. It was a few romantic, incredible nights like that which led to me sleeping with him. Granted I was no virgin, but Rufus was so skilled that I felt like it was my first time. I had no idea that such uncontrolled passion laid in someone so righteous and mild-mannered. After we had done it once, I hopped voraciously back on him. Once just wasn't enough. I couldn't get enough of him before, and after that night I learned that without him I would literally lose my sanity. The whole child thing was something I thought up. Maybe if we had a baby together we would _have _to be together forever, despite my mother's wishes. But I couldn't do that to him. We woke up the next morning and went to breakfast at a Mexican restaurant. Rufus was always the type of man to smile a lot, but never before had I seen him so giddy. When he left me for a moment to go to the restroom, my phone bleeped. When I pulled it out of my black leather purse, I saw it was from my mother: 

**Lillian, you know that I warned you there would be consequences. If you do not dump that man, you shall inherit none of my money or your father's. We will stop paying for college and you will not take over your father's business. We refuse to let this nonsense continue any further than it already has. **

I went to the bathroom and called her. 

"I'm a grown woman!" I remember shouting. It was the first time I had actually raised my voice to her. "You can't control who I fall in love with!" 

"And yet, I control everything else. Face it, Lillian: you don't have any other source of income besides your father and I. You'll be cast out from our society. There's no other place to go." I couldn't believe that the monster talking to me was the woman who had brought me into the world. 

"That's where you're wrong," I stated with a knowing smile. "I have Rufus. He'll take care of me." My mother laughed. 

"You didn't honestly think that I was going to leave him out of this, did you?" 

I froze. 

"What?" I asked. She hadn't mentioned a thing about Rufus. 

"Your mother has practically every contact in New York, or did you forget that?" Her voice turned smarmy. "It pays when you're rich and you have friends who are even richer." 

"What are you going to do to him?" I asked. I tried to cover up my trembling voice. She laughed again, and I wanted to reach through the phone and yank the vocal chords out of her throat. 

"I might know who his band's manager is. And he might just be willing to accept more money than your artist's band will ever make him." I let out a sob, not being able to hold it in any longer. She didn't notice. "You know that talent is big, but money can make someone even bigger. People are greedy, and that includes band managers." 

"Mother, please!" I exclaimed desperately through tears. "Don't do this to him!" 

"It doesn't have to happen. Just come home--_without _Mr. Humpback." 

"It's Humphrey!" I exclaimed angrily. 

"Whatever. All that matters is that William is still single and ready to mingle." If my heart wasn't broken in two, I would have laughed at her casual language. She didn't use it often. "I'll expect you back here in three days tops, from wherever you are. You know what will happen if you don't return." With those last cruel words, she hung up the phone. I stood in the bathroom stall, crying and listening to the dial tone for a few minutes. As I helplessly tried to think of a way out of the situation, I heard a loud knock on the door. 

"Lily? Are you alright in there?" I smiled at his gentle, caring voice. I concealed my tears as best I could. 

"Yes Rufus, I'm fine. It was just the morning hot sauce disagreeing with me." My cover-up was pretty good, for he couldn't tell that I was crying heavily. 

"Take your time. I'll be out here when you're ready," Rufus answered understandingly. That only made me cry harder. He was always there when I needed him to be. He was my rock; he was my Rufus. After applying much cold water and cover-up to my face, I walked out of the bathroom. He was at the table, sitting comfortably in his brown leather coat. His hands were folded on the table, and his shoulders looked low and relaxed. He looked out the window at the bright sun, a wry little smile dancing across his lips. The empty tables behind him made it look more like a photogenic scene. I loved photography; if my camera wasn't packed I would have taken a picture. I walked over to him, and he smiled at me the way he always did. I smiled too. 

"I feel much better," I said. He stood up and took my hand. 

"It's probably home sickness too. Don't worry; we're leaving today," Rufus said. He said it encouragingly, and I nearly burst into tears again. 

"Please don't say that." I grabbed his hand tighter than I meant to. "I would travel with you forever if I could." He looked a little surprised at first, but then looked joyful. 

"I'm glad you think that, Lil. We will travel together forever, I promise." After he said that we walked outside, and his words replayed in my brain. I was going to wait until we got back to tell him, but I couldn't. I couldn't lead him on any longer into thinking that we'd be together always when we really couldn't be. I pulled my hand out of his. 

He stopped walking and turned to face me. His eyes looked confused. 

"Is something wrong?" Rufus asked. I sighed. Somehow he always knew when something was wrong. 

"Rufus, I…I can't do this anymore." His facial expression was the essence of heartbreak. It was hurt, sadness, disbelief all rolled into one. I never thought I'd see Rufus that way. I almost cried. 

"W-What do you mean?" he asked. He stumbled over his words, and it was sadly pathetic. I wanted to run over to him and wrap my arms all around him. I wanted to tell him about my mother so badly that it ached. I wanted to let him know that I loved him and that I truly was doing it for his own good. Instead I looked away, not being able to deal with his melancholy eyes on me. 

"We have to break up." 

"I knew the sex would ruin it." Rufus inhaled as if trying to catch his breath. He put a hand to his forehead and sighed. "My friends said you would look at me in a different way after that." I felt my mouth drop open. He looked at me with pleading eyes. "Lily, I didn't mean to--"

"No!" I exclaimed. "Rufus, that's not it at all! The sex was…" I felt my cheeks turn red. I grinned and looked down from embarrassment. "It was incredible." 

"Then what is it?" he asked desperately. He was just trying to piece it all together. I felt so sorry for him. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to stifle more sobs from arising. 

"Rufus, it's all me. You're such an amazing person, and I'm starting to fall for you. That's why I have to stop myself, because I know that we just can't work together in the end. We're just from too different of worlds to ever make it together. There's another man who I have to be with, someone from my world. I can't fall for you when I have to be with him. I'm sorry." That was when the rain began to fall. I didn't even know rain was possible in Mexico. Rufus looked down silently and solemnly as the water droplets fell and materialized in his messy hair. He suddenly looked upon me scornfully. 

"So that was it all along, then? You just dated me to be with someone completely different, and as soon as you got some sex out of the deal you would dump me?" He threw his arms around dramatically as he spoke. His voice didn't raise, but each of his words felt like a knife stabbing through my soul. I would have preferred if he yelled and called me names. 

"No, no," I whispered, my voice cracking. 

"You know what?" Rufus laughed a little. He was trying to convey a point, but I knew better. He was actually trying to cover up his sadness. "I'm so stupid. I actually thought you were different. I thought you weren't one of those snooty Upper East Siders who only cared about money and social standings. I thought you truly wanted to be with me." 

"I do Rufus, I do! I just--" 

"But really, you're worse than all of them put together. Because while other Upper East Side girls would have just turned me away with a mean face, you actually pretended to care. You actually made me think that I had found the one person meant for me on this earth." He looked down again, not being able to handle it much longer. "That disgusts me so much that I can't even speak about it anymore." 

"Rufus…"

"Goodbye Lily. I hope you get home alright." He turned around slowly and walked just the same, not displaying any inner anger. It only made me feel guiltier, which was probably his intention. In just a matter of seconds, the one dream I had ever dared to follow was gone. For the longest time I stood in that very spot, watching the direction in which he had walked away. I don't know if I was expecting him to run back to me in understanding or for a lightning bolt to come down and strike me dead. I just stared ahead of me with blurred eyes, my sweating hands clutching my purse until my knuckles turned white. The rain began to pour, drenching my clothes and making them stick to my skin. I didn't make a sound; I just let the tears run down my face, and soon it was hard to distinguish between them and the raindrops. Thunder roared in the sky, rumbling through the grey clouds. I finally walked back to the restaurant to sit on the porch. I kept staring at that road, seeing Rufus's bright face in my mind. Usually thinking of him made my stormy days calm, but all I could see was rain. I realized that I had made the one person who had ever made me happy walk away, and I knew that all I would be seeing was stormy days from then on. 

I wailed loudly and buried my face in my hands, quieting the thunder. 

* * *

I managed to get to an airport. I returned home to a grinning Cece, who I looked upon with a secret hatred. She wasn't my mother anymore, just the woman who had torn the man I loved away from me. She arranged for my first date with William, and soon after my marriage to him. William was a very kind man and very generous. He always put me ahead of himself. He bought me diamond rings and any purse or dress that I ever desired. After our first few weeks together, I could tell when I looked into his eyes that he had fallen in love with me. I felt terrible that I didn't feel the same way about him, but I couldn't help myself. There was only one man that I had ever been in love with, and would ever be in love with. I became Mrs. William Van Der Woodsen one crisp fall day. It poured after the ceremony. Despite the weather, William was all smiles as I slipped my arm under his. I still remember his tender, loving kiss as we drove away from the reception in the limo. His bright blue eyes twinkled, and my heart sank. 

"I love you," he said. I could only nod. We went on a honeymoon to Jamaica and then to a nice house William had bought in the Upper East Side. It was a good size house, and it was very elegant from the outside and inside. 

If there was ever a wife who lacked in nothing, it was me. William never told me no. He continued to buy me anything I wanted. If I wanted to go to Italy alone, he would arrange it. You're probably calling me crazy for not loving him. The reason I didn't was because money doesn't make up for love. I could never talk to him the way I talked to Rufus. He was preoccupied with work much of the time. I did take over a portion of my father's business but nothing that didn't keep me from sitting home alone many nights. I began to call unnecessary meetings just so I could see and talk to people. William and I had intercourse with a condom many times, but I was never as satisfied as I had been with Rufus that one night. It seemed that no matter what William did, he could never live up to the standards that my man with the band had set. It wasn't like I didn't try to let William into my heart; I attempted many a time. However, whenever I sat down to discuss things with him, we never connected. None of my rich flighty friends ever understood why I didn't love him, and I couldn't make them understand. 

A year after our marriage, William wanted to have a baby. I put him off for the longest time, seeing as I didn't know if I wanted to bring a child into a loveless marriage. He didn't know it was loveless though, which was the deciding factor. Months later, my daughter was born. From the very beginning she had the blonde, stunning hair of her father. She wasn't a very big baby, and she had a round pie face. William came into the hospital room when I held her in my arms for the first time. He had smiled lovingly at me as the baby held his finger in her tiny hand. 

"You can decide what to name her," William said. I had asked if I could decide the name (I _did _push the kid out, after all), and as always he didn't refuse my request. As I looked down at my daughter's smiley baby face, and she made me happy. The feeling made me recall how I had felt that night of my first date with Rufus. I thought back to the beautiful garden and remembered the sound of the water flowing from the fountain. I took myself back to that time for a moment and felt Rufus's hand hold mine. The leather smell from his brown coat came back to my nostrils. I pictured his gentle face, half shining in the moonlight. 

_"This area is so serene," _his words echoed in my memory. I didn't know why I remembered that, but I smiled as if I had an epiphany. 

"I want to name her Serena," I said. Serena remained a very happy baby. She never cried often unless she was hungry and her lunch was late. I loved buying the cute little baby clothes and dressing her up in them, as if she was my baby doll. William came to me one morning and lectured me, something he never did. 

"You need to stop buying her so many clothes. I can't fit anything more into her closet. It's all going to go to goodwill anyway once she grows out of it." 

After Serena came along, William changed. It was because he saw for the first time what I acted like when I loved someone. I loved my daughter, but I didn't love her father. It was a sad truth. I stayed home with Serena a lot and stayed up with her when he came home so that he and I wouldn't be forced to have awkward conversation. He saw the love I bestowed on my child and not on him, and he didn't like it. As Serena grew and went to preschool, he became a cold father to her and an even colder husband to me. I didn't mind when he acted so towards me, for I felt that I deserved every brunt of his secret anger. However, I didn't like when he took it out on our little girl. 

Serena became best friends with a girl named Blair Waldorf. Blair used to come over sometimes for play dates, but Serena mainly went over to Blair's penthouse because Blair had a costume box. I noticed that whenever they played, Serena always seemed lighthearted where Blair seemed sad a lot of the time. It wasn't a crying sad, but it was the kind of sad where you can tell that something isn't right. After meeting her mother and seeing how she was usually very busy, I guessed it was parent problems though I wasn't quite certain. It wasn't my place to guess. Blair remained very strict with herself as the years went by, and Serena became the opposite. I never put pressure on her in school, though I often wish I had. She had okay grades as a young girl, but when she hit about fifth grade they began going downhill. Whenever I saw Blair getting straight A's, I mentioned to Serena about trying harder but I never forced her. I didn't want to be like my own mother and force my child into things until she thought there was no other point to life other than to obey me. I just prayed she would do better when she was ready. 

Nathaniel Archibald: what a character. Actually, not really. For all I heard about Nate over the years, whenever I talked to him I never saw anything that special. He was always a very polite young man and his parents were always kind--to my face. However, he wasn't the talkative type. Serena always liked Nate when she was young. She would come home and tell me about how he had helped her with math and how he had seesawed with her. She even kissed him sometimes, and she wasn't shy about telling me. I would discourage her from it, even though I thought it was adorable. 

"Guess what, mommy!" she came to me one afternoon. "I kissed Nate today when we were sitting on the beanbag chairs!" 

"I told you not to do that," I said. She slumped, her eyes rolling downward. She sat at the kitchen counter, waiting for me to give her dinner. 

"I know, mommy." 

"Then why do you do it?" I asked. She smiled, her face turning pink. 

"Because I like Nate! In Blair's princess books, when the princess likes the prince she kisses him!" 

"That's only in storybooks," I told her. I placed a grilled cheese sandwich in front of her and smiled a little at her innocence. "Plus, the princesses and princes are grown-ups. You're only four." 

"I'll stop, I promise. I've gotten better, though, because I only do it away from Blair. She gets mad at me when I kiss Nate." 

I wish I would have stopped her as she got older. I didn't because not only did I not want to be too strict, but her little crush on Nate was the alternative to my marriage. William had stopped smiling at me, and he had become even harsher than ever before. Seeing Serena happy with Nate made me feel that there was still hope for love. I suggested having another child to William one night, thinking that it might help us come back together as a family again. He obviously was thinking something along those lines, for he agreed. Months later, my son Eric was born. He had the bright blonde hair of William and Serena, and his father's brown eyes. None of my children had my characteristics. Though I was a blonde, William was blonder. 

Having Eric doubled my pleasure as a mother. Although I couldn't buy him frilly dresses or tie his hair in ribbons, he was an adorable boy. He was a pudgy baby with skin as soft as velvet. He had chubby, soft thighs that jiggled when his little legs kicked. Serena loved her new brother right away. He was her playmate and her first responsibility. She was eager to look out for him, even if I was just leaving a room. Eric failed to bring the entire family together, however. Five months after he was born, William came to me. 

"Lily, I have to be honest with you. I thought having Eric was going to help everything between us…but I guess it didn't. We're no better than we were before he came along, and I don't think we'll ever improve." I felt bad for him; he was finally admitting what was paining him to say. I know that he loved me at one time. 

"I'm sorry, William. I'm sorry I couldn't love you the way you did me." There was nothing I could do but apologize and let him go. I feel guilty for two main things in my entire life: making Rufus walk away and leading William on. If I had done the first thing, the second could have been avoided. How can a marriage last if it isn't based on love, or at least mutual affection? The terrible outcome of the divorce was that I had to support Serena and Eric on my own. I had to go to work more often, and I wasn't home with them as much. Serena basically controlled the house when she was only six. This became a bad thing as she grew older, for I came home more than once to a party-wrecked house. Sometimes when I had to go away on a business trip, I left the kids with my mom. My father died unfortunately the year Eric was born, so her grandkids and her money were all that my mom had left. She loved them both, but it always seemed like she was the spider luring more flies into her trap. Whenever I handed them over to her she would smile that witchy smile at me. 

"Don't worry Lily, they'll be fine with me," she would always say. It made me shiver to think what would happen if I left them with her even more than I did. Serena loved her grandmother with her whole heart, because my mom would show her the joys of the rich life: jewelry, dresses, everything. She would play off of Serena's childlike desire to be a grown-up. Eric was still too young to play that card on, so my mother would win him over with exquisite foods and desserts. 

Serena grew up, and because I was never home as much as I would have liked to be, she became as cold to me as William was. She began to give me the looks that I often gave my mother in my teenage years. I was aware of her bad grades, and Eric kept me informed about the men she brought home in her middle-school years. I had a talk with her one night when she was in seventh grade. 

"This has got to stop," I told her. "All of the boys, the drinking, the late nights…" 

"Mom, it's nothing that no one else does. Even Blair sneaks a drink occasionally." 

"I don't care what anyone else does! You're my daughter, and you'll do what I say." She glared at me, then turned and walked away to her room. I told her many times to stop what she was doing, for her own health. However, I was always gone and couldn't really enforce it. Whenever I grounded her she snuck out. Plus, I had never formally scolded her to stop anything she did before; why should she listen to me now? In eighth grade it became really bad. She was gone practically every night, and her drinking spun out of control. Blair would sometimes bring her home at night, my daughter stumbling like a drunkard out of a movie. Serena's dresses would be drenched in vomit. She would wake up with terrible hangovers. It made me cry at night. I was depressed and upset with myself that I couldn't have taught her better. 

I thanked God that they let her graduate, though sometimes I think it was just that the school didn't want to put up with her shenanigans any longer at school. She ditched classes a lot to have make out sessions. That got me called to the principal's office many times. Yet no matter how many times I tried to crack down on her, it never worked. One day when Serena and I were going into the principal's office, a boy who looked about Serena's age and his stern-looking father were coming out. The boy's scarlet and gold scarf caught my eye, which drew my attention to his pale skin and his dark hair. He saw my daughter and his eyes slit in curiosity.

"Who were you f-ing around with this time, Van Der Woodsen?" I heard the boy whisper. His voice was very low. A smirk spread across his slender face as my daughter rolled her eyes. 

"Mind your own business, Chuck." Serena walked into the office. My eyes widened in shock as I watched the boy's handsome brown eyes stare at her behind as she walked away.

"Is your daughter in trouble too?" I heard a deep voice ask. I turned; the father of the boy was speaking to me. 

"Yes, unfortunately," I answered. My eyes moved back down to his son, who was smiling slyly in my daughter's direction. His father noticed. He grabbed his son by the shoulder and turned him around roughly. The man turned back to me with a little smile. 

"Lily Van Der Woodsen, right? We met at the class's springtime picnic last year?" I stared at his face, trying to remember. It suddenly hit me. 

"Yes, Mr. Bass. I do remember." I really wasn't that close with any of the parents of the children in my daughter's class except for Eleanor Waldorf. Not even the Archibalds were that close of associates. Bart Bass stood out in my memory, though. He interested me, and not just because he was the richest man in New York. He wasn't that bad looking. He was very tall with a lean body. He wore suits all the time and looked very professional. His hair was always cut in a nice shape, and he smelt like expensive cologne. He was a very well-kept man. Anyone could tell he was confident in himself. It was very charming. I looked down at his son, who gazed up at me under lowered eyelids. His one dark eyebrow raised at me as if he was trying to figure me out. 

"Charles, right?" I asked. Serena had mentioned a Chuck Bass to me occasionally. She told me that he was a player. From what I had seen, I wasn't surprised. 

"Yes, Mrs. Van Der Woodsen," he said with a little smile. I could tell by his attitude that he was his father's son. He acted very smooth and certain in manner. He was a handsome young boy, and I couldn't help but think that he could be better than what he was. His father cleared his throat and looked at me with warm grey eyes. 

"I heard through the grapevine that you have connections with a certain corporation?"

"My father's, originally," I answered. Bart nodded, his smile unfading. 

"I would like to hear more about it sometime," he said. "I might be interested." His assured tone couldn't help but make me smile. I reached into my purse and found a pen. 

"I can give you my number for a discussion sometime," I offered. Really it was because I wanted to find out more about him. Bart reached into his pocket and pulled a slip of paper out. 

"That would be great," he answered, handing the paper over to me. I thought I saw Chuck smirking and shaking his head slowly as I wrote. I smiled. There was something I liked about that kid, when he wasn't peering at my daughter's ass. I handed Bart the paper when I was done writing my cell number. 

"Mom, come on!" I heard Serena call to me from the doorway. I gave Bart one last smile. 

"I'll be hearing from you soon, then?" I asked. 

"Definitely," Bart said with conviction. He gave me a quick wave goodbye, then walked away briskly. Chuck followed him, glancing at me from behind his shoulder as he went. That was the first time I formally met Bart Bass. I began to meet up with him for business reasons, and soon I was invited to all of the events he hosted. He was always such a gentleman towards me. I felt pity for his son, too. Whenever I spoke to Chuck I knew that there was more to him than the womanizing face he showed the world. I knew, but I never tried to understand. 

When Serena went to Constance Billard, nothing changed. She still partied, and instead of telling her to stop (the way I used to), I encouraged her to be popular. I was working my way up the societal ladder, with being one of Bart's newest close connections. Serena had always been with the in-crowd, and I told her to keep it up in high school. Even if it meant her coming home sick at four in the morning or giving away her innocence, at least she would be accepted. It disgusted me that this was the life my daughter had to live--a life similar to the one that I was told to live as a teenager. Eric wasn't like that; he didn't care if he wasn't popular or not, he never did anything like Serena did. I respected my son so much for that, and I didn't tell him to do otherwise. Pretty screwed up, wasn't I, to tell one child one thing and tell the opposite to another? I guess you could say I was lost, still torn between my mother's world and my own. 

Nearing the end of Serena's sophomore year, she came to me when I was eating dinner. She had a look of sadness and guilt on her face, and I knew immediately that something was wrong. 

"Hey mom, I have something to tell you." 

"What is it?" I asked, wiping my mouth with a cloth napkin. Nothing could have prepared me for the news that was coming. 

"I need to go away to a different school. Most likely one in a different state." I jumped from my seat. 

"You've been expelled from Constance?!" 

"No, no!" I sighed out of relief, putting a hand on my chest as I sat back down.

"Thank God." I faced her again. "Why do you want to transfer? You have everything to your advantage here." 

"Mom…I did something awful." She was quiet for a few seconds and looked away from me. I knew she didn't want to admit it, but I wasn't going to let it go. 

"Well, what did you do? Spit it out," I said. "Something to a teacher? The principal?" 

"I slept with Nate." 

I couldn't believe what I had just heard. I looked up at her in shock. I think it surprised me so much that I almost started shaking. 

"You…you…" I couldn't let the words escape my mouth. Everyone knew that Nate and Blair were dating. They had been for years, even though I knew Serena always had a crush on Nate. Outside of their little kindergarten kisses, she had stayed clear of Nate. To hear that she did such a thing blew my mind. 

"It was at the Shepherd wedding last weekend," Serena stated. "I've been feeling so guilty these last five days that I don't know what else to do." I was silent, just staring at my plate of meatloaf in disbelief. "Every time I see Blair all smiling and happy, it kills me mom. I feel so bad for what I did to her." I heard tears building up in her voice. "And she doesn't even know." My head shot up. 

"She doesn't even know?!" I repeated. "How could you do that, Serena?! How could you sleep with your best friend's boyfriend?! Do you have any idea how degrading that is?!"

"It just happened, mom." The tears fell from her eyes, making her mascara run down her cheeks. "I didn't want to do it at all. I was just sitting on him, but we were more than a little drunk and--"

"I thought I had raised you better." I put my hand in my head and closed my eyes, trying not to cry myself. 

"Don't blame yourself, mom!" Serena exclaimed. She tried wiping the tears off of her cheeks with the back of her hand. "It's all my fault. I've done something terrible to my best friend and to your reputation if it ever gets out." I let my hand fall onto the counter and I sighed. 

"You want to run away from it all, then?" I asked. She looked at her feet and sniffled. I shook my head, still in shock and sadness. "I should make you stay here. I should make you tell Blair what you did and suffer the consequences." 

"I know you should, mom. But I'm just not strong enough for that. Not now." Serena looked at me with pleading, tear filled eyes. She was obviously hurting, and I hated for my children to be hurt--even when they were completely in the wrong. 

"We'll find a place and you can leave this weekend. That is, _if _they'll even take you." I looked away again, this time into my coffee cup. I concentrated on the little ripples in the liquid as I tried to get my mind off of everything. 

"Thank you, mom. Thank you so much." 

"You're welcome. Now go to your room. You're not doing any partying this weekend." 

"I don't even feel like living right now." Serena walked away, her stilettos clicking against the ground as she went. As soon as I heard her door close, I burst into silent tears. I felt like I had ruined my daughter's life. I wondered why I had encouraged her to party when I had hated when my mother told me to do so when I was young. Serena seemed like she enjoyed it more than I did, but it would have been to her benefit not to have done so at all. When Eric came home and saw me in tears, he tried to comfort me as best as he could. 

"Mom, it will all be okay. I'm sure it will," Eric said. I hugged my son tightly and closed my eyes. At least he was still there. Eric was my solid ground. 

"I just don't understand how she could do that," I told him. "Bad enough that she sleeps around, but to do it with Nate when he belongs to Blair..." 

"Well, don't tell Serena that I told you, but she told me about how lucky she thinks Blair is." I looked at Eric with curiosity and he continued. "Blair always has had Nate, and Serena never had that one special guy. I secretly think that she just wanted what Blair had. I think she was a little jealous." I understood where he was coming from. What good is being popular if you have no one to yourself? Maybe Serena hated the life she led more than I thought. 

Serena transferred to Hanover, a boarding school in Connecticut. She was gone the entire summer, and I worried about her constantly. Whenever I called to check-up, she seemed like she had reformed, but I still hoped that she wasn't getting into trouble behind the scenes. Her absence had a huge effect on Eric. He really loved Serena, probably even more so than me, for she was always there when I was not. Even though she was gone often, overall I left Eric more. I felt terrible for that, but my job and social events got in the way many times. Near the end of the summer, our house had to be renovated. I hadn't been home enough to notice the problems with the water tank. One night Eric startled me awake with the news that our basement had flooded. I met Bart Bass the next day at a luncheon and I told him our problem. Lucky for me, he had just bought the Palace Hotel. He offered me a room, and I gratefully accepted. Serena was upset when I called and told her the news, but there was nothing she could do about it. Eric wasn't ecstatic about the move, either. 

"This place is killing me," he informed me one morning. "It's the same walls over and over again." 

"I know, but it's the best we have for now," I said. Personally I didn't mind the place. I often met up with Bart for drinks at the bar. It was soon early September. Serena's new semester had begun, as well as Eric's. I came home one afternoon from a meeting and called for Eric. I needed to ask him something, but I heard no reply. 

"Eric!" I called. I was puzzled by the silence. It was four o' clock, and Eric was always home on time. "Eric!" I tossed my purse to the side and ran to his room. He wasn't taking a nap. I began to get scared. I went to the bathroom and found the door cracked open slightly. I pushed it open further and gasped in horror. My little boy lied on the bathroom floor, his eyes half-open. He looked as though he had been drugged and was about to fall asleep. His face was an abnormal pale, and he breathed very shortly. I couldn't take my eyes off of his left wrist. There was a large slit right above it, and his entire lower left arm was drenched in blood. I think I screamed for a good few seconds before I kneeled down next to him, shouting out his name over and over again. "Eric! Eric!" He responded with a weak moan only once. I frantically called 9-1-1, and soon the paramedics were running up the stairs to take my baby away. They asked me questions, but all I could do was cry and scream. 

_"He can't be dead…he can't be dead…" _I just kept repeating that in my mind, not able to register anything else. Eric was the one thing stable in my life, and now even he had changed. The sights of his ashen face and the cut on his arm remained in my memory for nights on end. I would lie in my room and cry. I blamed Serena for sleeping with Nate so that she'd have to go away and leave him. I blamed my mother for making me confused on how to bring up my children. I blamed the Upper East Side and its glamour that I had to live in instead of being somewhere better to raise a family. Yet it all came back to only one person to blame: myself. Eric was admitted to the Ostroff Treatment Center. As soon as Serena heard about his condition, she came back to face her demons. I was glad to have her home and glad to see that she put Eric's well being ahead of her social demise. On the other hand, I became upset whenever she told me to release Eric. She accused me of being worried about what the other members of the high society would say. Really, it wasn't that at all. In actuality I was scared. I was frightened that he wasn't ready and that I would walk into that bathroom and see him lying there again. I was afraid that the next time it happened I wouldn't be so fortunate as to see him alive again. 

So many things followed her return, and it all revolved around one man: Rufus Humphrey. I had tried to get over him. I had married William and dated other men throughout the years, just trying not to think about him. One day, he just came crawling right back into my life. It first happened when I saw his son Daniel returning a phone to Serena, which I supposed she had dropped. When Serena told me she planned to ditch a party of Blair's and go with Dan on a date, I couldn't have been more shocked. I nearly laughed at the irony. My daughter and his son, who ever would have guessed? I didn't want it to happen, though. I didn't want anything with Rufus and I ever brought up again. It hurt me too much, and I'm sure it hurt him as well. 

That was why I sat outside of his new gallery in Brooklyn, my hands holding the steering wheel even though my car was off. I finally sighed and got out after contemplating going back a million times. When I saw him there, I nearly turned around and ran. Instead I froze in my spot and just looked at him. He was still ruggedly handsome. His hair was still shaggy and he still grinned at everyone who walked in. The only difference was that he wore classy pants and a pressed shirt instead of his leather. When he looked at me, his blue eyes stared as if he had just seen a ghost. I approached him and asked about our children. I had heard along the line that his wife had gone off to Hudson, and I questioned him about it. He replied that he wasn't in control of who Dan liked, and he wasn't going to try to stop him. I left awkwardly, wishing only that my mother could have acted like that towards me. I saw him again, and that time it was even more awkward. I was hosting the Ivy Party for the schools. It was an event where representatives from top schools came, including one from Brown, Serena's college choice. Rufus came to me, asking if his son could come to the party even though he wasn't chosen as an usher for any of the representatives. I was skeptical, wondering what he was really up to. However, even though I acted like I wasn't going to let his son in, I had already decided to agree with his demands the minute I saw him. I kicked myself all the way home, telling myself to get over him. I saw him again when I had to return a painting to his gallery that a dealer of mine had bought. The painting was very beautiful, but I knew that Rufus's wife would hate him if she found out I had it. It was hard to forget Rufus, especially when Dan and Serena officially began dating. I first officially met Dan at my house when he was waiting for Serena. 

"So, where are you taking my daughter tonight?" I asked him. I noticed how nice he was dressed, and I figured he was trying to impress his date. I noticed his father's dark hair in him and his thin, handsome face, but he had his mother's eyes. 

"Um, I don't know. We'll probably take a walking tour of the New York underground, and visit my friends the mole people. They're great except they only ever eat leftovers," Dan joked. I nodded, realizing how much his sarcastic joking reminded me of Rufus. He stuttered. "I'm sorry; I don't know why I just said any of that. I have this thing, this nervous tick…I never stop speaking, ever." He made cute little hand motions as he spoke, and I couldn't help but smile. He smiled too, flashing off his perfectly straight white teeth. I decided right there that I liked Dan. He seemed like a very sweet boy. Not wealthy at all and a little socially awkward, but genuinely sweet. Just like his father. A problem confronted me later that evening: Eric had gone missing from the center. I called Rufus, who assumed that he was with Dan and Serena. He hung up, and I was outraged. How could he just put me off when my son was missing?! I decided to confront him. I went to his apartment, and he looked very shocked to see me. He apologized for being gruff and told me that he called Dan, who had discovered that Eric was with Rufus's daughter Jenny. Eric had met Jenny before and had informed me she was very nice. I relaxed a little and we decided to make pasta. 

"It needs a little salt," I said. 

"What are you talking about? It's fine," Rufus stated. I reached for the salt and told him it just needed a little bit. "You haven't changed," Rufus said with a heavy sigh. "You always wanted to be in control."

"Well, I didn't see you complaining," I replied. It was our usual arguing banter that we had been having whenever we saw each other lately. Then we started talking about our kids. I hadn't talked to anyone so openly for so long, and I immediately remembered what it was like to be able to tell him anything. It felt so great to let everything I had been thinking out. I even told him about Eric at the Ostroff Center, for he had no idea before. He thought I was just being strict about curfew. 

"I don't know what I did or didn't do, I just need to know what to do to make sure it doesn't happen again," I told him. He seemed very pitiful, and he looked up at me with understanding in his eyes. It nearly took my breath away. I forgot what it was like to have him look at me like that. 

"All you can do is be there for them," Rufus said. I stayed for dinner, and I looked around his apartment. I smiled at the many guitars Rufus had stashed in a corner of the living room. I observed the garage door that divided Dan and Jenny's rooms, and I saw Dan's dresser above his bed (filled with books and a cabbage patch kid). What really caught my eye was a photo of a young, guitar playing Rufus hanging in the hallway. 

"I remember taking this picture," I said. I took it in my hands and grinned at my young, ex-beau. I remembered when I had time for photography. 

"You took that photo? You weren't even at that show!" Rufus said as he collected our bowls and glasses off of the table. 

"Oh, excuse me?" I questioned knowingly. I walked back over to him. "If I remember, the first song was about me, and the second one was about your motorcycle." I saw him start to laugh. "Then there was the one about that surfing town…what was it?" 

"Saladita," Rufus answered. 

"Saladita," I repeated. I remembered the tune, and it began playing in my head. Suddenly, I remembered another meaning behind it. "Wasn't that the place with the villa where we…" Rufus raised his eyebrows and smirked. We began teasing each other again, when suddenly the phone rang. I picked it up. "Hello, Humphrey residence." The happiness I had been experiencing that evening faded when I heard that voice…_her _voice. "Hi Alison. Yes, it's Lily." Rufus looked at me, completely caught off guard. When he took the phone from me, I heard her hang up. 

I never liked Alison, Rufus's wife. In fact, I despised her. I would have felt better all these years if Rufus had married someone like me or better than me, but she was just beneath. From what I had heard from Rufus and Serena, she had left him to go to Hudson for her art. I knew that Rufus had suspected her of cheating on him. I couldn't bear hearing that. She had the best man in the world--how could she cheat on him?! How could she leave her loving husband and her children just to run around with someone else?! I hated her. I hated how she took advantage of _my _man's heart. I hated how he wasn't taking the step in divorcing her. I hated how he gave her everything and how she didn't return it. 

"I overstayed my welcome," I said, getting up to leave. He walked me to the door, and I smiled at him cheerfully. "Thank you for babysitting me," I joked. I couldn't resist it any longer; I put my hand on his shoulder. I had to feel what it was like to be that close to him again. As soon as my fingers touched him, a familiar warmth filled me. I smiled even wider as happy memories filled my brain. I wanted to hug him so badly and feel his comfort fully, but I couldn't. "And thank you for being such a good friend," I stated. I could title it all I wanted, but we both knew what was going on was more than friendship. 

"Yeah," Rufus said. "It was almost fun." He smiled playfully and let me out the door. I pranced down the stairs as if I was a young woman in love again. Realization hit me when I reached the bottom. No matter how close I could be with him, he was still Alison's. Until he finally gave up on that bitch, Rufus was stuck with her. I walked back to my car, wanting more than ever before to turn back the hands of time. 

* * *

After years of flirting, Bart Bass and I officially got together. I wanted to let Serena and Eric know before announcing it to the public. Bart was no Rufus by any means, but he was supportive and very kind to me. Many called him stolid, but compared to the other men I had dated he was Mr. Personality. I talked more to him than I ever had to William. He wouldn't have gotten anywhere with me if he didn't have _some _listening and talking skills. The one thing that bothered me was his past. Bart supposedly slept around, as did his son. His attitude towards me, however, made me believe that he was done with that. 

One afternoon I was coming out of the Palace only to see my daughter's arch nemesis sitting against a tree along the road. I walked over to him and bent down next to him. 

"Long night?" I asked. He looked up at me in a daze. 

"Alfonso made me an omelet. I might have washed it down with a drink or two," Chuck replied. I smiled; he was a funny kid. I felt sorry for him, for I guessed that Bart had rejected a business proposal of his. I helped him up and we talked for a few moments, which was when he broke me the news that Bart had pulled an Asian girl into his limo recently. I wouldn't say I was surprised, but I was definitely disappointed. He looked so happy when we decided to become an item. He seemed so genuine when he told me I would be his only. I wound up at Rufus's door, yet again. I didn't pick up the phone when Bart called, and it wasn't until he came to see me and explain that I understood what had happened. 

"She was only a client of mine. I wasn't involved with her in any way," Bart told me. I nodded, and he took both of my hands in his. "Lily," he said. I looked over at him. "I really, really care about you. I haven't felt this way about someone in a long time. I know I have a reputation, but believe me, that's all in the past. I want to be with you and only you." He had the same sincere glint in his eyes as before, and I suddenly had a feeling that I could trust him. I smiled. 

"I believe you, Bart." I leaned in and kissed him. He was an extremely good kisser. It helped ease my worries. 

I won't explain all of the details of what happened in my life after that. I'll just say that somehow I ended up spending Thanksgiving with Rufus and Alison, who had come in from Hudson. Sparks flew, and all of our children found out about the past that Rufus and I shared. It was the time when I realized that no matter what, Rufus and I were not meant to be together (not even as "friends"). Alison basically gave me the boot from Rufus's life. I really, _really _hate that Alison. There was a Cotillion after Thanksgiving, a formal dance that my mother was in charge of. She had always been the head of it. When she discovered that Dan and Serena were dating, she was outraged. She secretly pulled me over during one of the dance practices to talk. 

"How could you let her date him?!" 

"So you'd rather have her run around and sleep with random men, including her best friend's boyfriend? Because that's exactly what she did, mother!" I exclaimed. 

"Better than dating such trash as that boy. Will those Humphreys never get out of my life?!" If she wasn't my mother I could have slapped her. Hot blood pulsed through my veins as I tried to restrain myself. 

"That boy has been nothing but an absolute darling since he began dating my daughter. Not only is he sweet, polite, and the smartest boy at St. Jude's, but Serena has changed since being with him. She doesn't skip classes anymore, she comes home early, and her grades are the highest they've been in years. I will _not _listen to you badmouth Dan in such a fashion." I got into her face, and her eyes became as wide as saucers. She was surprised at my anger; it was something she had never seen. "You may have controlled my life, but you can't control Serena's. Not if I have anything to say about it." I turned and left her there. Despite my words, she still encouraged Serena to dump Dan. Her scheming almost worked, but Serena eventually figured out her grandmother's intentions. As for Dan, I decided to tell him how I felt about him. I told him exactly what I had told my mother, and he seemed proud that he had finally gotten my official approval. At the end of the cotillion, my phone rang. It was Rufus. Apparently my mother had come to him, trying to convince him to get Dan to back out of going to the cotillion with Serena. She told him--partially--about why I left him. 

"She made me an offer I couldn't refuse. And I wasn't strong enough then," I said to him. He didn't know that the offer had involved his band. I realized that I was telling him what Serena had told me after she had slept with Nate. 

"Why didn't you tell me? If I would have known that you hadn't actually left me for him, I would've--" Rufus began, stuttering the way Dan did. 

"Listen, just…just stop." I laughed a little. "Don't even think it." 

"I can't help myself!" Rufus said. My mouth parted slightly at his words. I wanted desperately to say something back. Instead I said nothing, my ears craving to hear his voice once more. I heard him sigh. "I never should have let you let me go." Then he hung up the phone. I flipped my phone shut and looked at it in silence. At least now he knew. He knew that deep down I really was different from the rest--I was just a scared fool as well. I wondered if we would ever get over one another.

That was when I heard a laugh. I looked down below the balcony and saw Serena running up the stairs. She pulled Dan up with her by the hand. Dan was looking dapper in black and gold to match Serena's gold, flowing ball gown. As soon as they reached the top, Dan pulled her close to him and into a deep, passionate kiss. I had never seen Serena happier than at that moment. After they stopped kissing, Dan lifted her up into his arms, and Serena looked up at me from over his shoulder. I smiled at her approvingly. She had found her way back, just like I had always hoped she would. Then for some reason I thought of Eric and when he said how nice Jenny was to him. It was ironic that Humphreys always helped my family accomplish getting back on track. I was proud of that. 

* * *

Bart Bass proposed to me on Christmas Day, right as Rufus was calling me down from below the Palace. I asked Bart to wait a little while I decided. Rufus came to me one afternoon, telling me that he had officially dumped Alison. He was fair game. Later that same day, I sat with Bart in a restaurant. He got up to answer a call, and I watched him go. I cared about him, I truly did. I liked his son and I felt bad for him. Both of them needed me in their lives. On the other hand, Rufus made it clear that he needed me too. If he didn't he wouldn't have traveled from Brooklyn on Christmas to tell me about Alison. 

_"I miss you," _his voice message had said. _"And I have been missing you for a long time." _I sighed as I watched Bart pace back and forth. He was not like William, yet he was like William at the same time. Rufus was nothing like William. Rufus was always different. That was why I loved him. That was why I still loved him after so many years. 

_"You married William for your mom. You may marry Bart for him and his son. What about yourself?" _my mind asked me. Rufus had asked me the same question earlier. There seemed to be only one answer. I pulled out my cell phone and called Rufus. 

"I was thinking about what you said. Let's do it. Let's see what we are and see what we could be." I was determined to begin my second chance. I could feel how happy he was on the other end. His voice was exclamatory. 

"Let's go away tonight! Let's pack a bag, let's get away from everyone and everything, and just figure it out!" 

"Where would we go?" I asked. 

"Who cares?!" We made plans where to meet. 

"I'm scared, Rufus. In a good way." If there was anyone who could understand what I was feeling, it was him. 

"Me too," he replied. I smiled widely. I finished the lunch with Bart, not planning on telling him where I was going or with whom. I began to pack, and I found myself humming. That is, before Serena walked in the door. She was in a bit of predicament herself, but she stopped explaining when she saw what I was doing. She asked why I was packing, but then my phone rang. When she saw the name she answered her own question. 

"Mom, is Dan's dad the reason why you haven't answered Bart's proposal?" I was caught, and guilty as charged. "Mom, please don't do this!" She stood up off of the bed. I tried to explain it to her, but how could I? All she knew was that I was about to run off with her boyfriend's dad, and she knew that I wouldn't hesitate to marry him. 

"Serena, I--"

"I know it's not forever, but that's what it feels like!" Serena said. I thought back to what I told Dan about himself, and that eye-opening night at the cotillion. I remembered how I realized what Dan did for her. Serena looked at me pleadingly. "I would rather be Chuck's stepsister than Dan's. Please don't do this to me." All I could think about was how much she had changed because of Dan. I drove to where I was meeting Rufus with tears in my eyes. It was personally unfortunate that I had to do what I was about to do. But my time for true love had passed. It was time to sacrifice it once more for someone else, someone who was one of the two people who mattered most to me.

It was raining lightly when I met up with Rufus. He was standing on the street corner when I approached him. The only light in the area, coming from the street light above, fell upon him. It always seemed that no matter where we were, he brightened up a scene. He smiled at me as I walked over to him, and I took one last look at his face. That soft, whiskery face that looked at me lovingly no matter what I did. Thoughtful, gentle, forgiving: I would miss him forever. 

"You packed light," Rufus said.

"Please try to understand," I said. 

"I think I do," he replied. Of course he did. He _always _understood. "I'm just sorry." 

"So am I." 

He turned and walked away to his yellow car. The rain continued to fall. I looked down into a puddle at my feet. I thought about Serena and Eric back home. They had no idea that I just did the hardest thing that I've ever had to do for one of them. If that didn't make me a better mother than before, I don't know what would. I thought about Bart, and how he was waiting for my answer. I could've called and told him yes on my cell phone. 

Instead, I just looked up and stared ahead through the rain, down the road in which Rufus had driven away. 

It seemed all too familiar to me. 

END OF PART III


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's part four! Thanks again 2 everyone 4 ur comments and reviews! :)**

**Fallen Angels: Part Four**

11/23/07

I really don't know why I'm being forced to write this. How can a journal help a problem go away? Writing down my thoughts is stupid, pointless. I think every day; I don't need it on paper. Lousy idiots at this center…just what _am _I paying for, anyway?! I could be home reading the newspaper, spending a nice day after Thanksgiving while Anne goes out shopping. Ridiculous.

11/24/07

The breakfast I had today was awful. It made me think of the good breakfasts that Anne would cook at home. I took them for granted before. They gave me a newspaper to read, and surprise surprise, I was still one of the top stories. Eleanor Waldorf went crazy when the news was announced that I was going on trial. She had every right to be, seeing as she is my new business partner. Still, with everyone else on my back, the last thing I needed was her calling me practically every day for updates.

This never would have happened if it weren't for Nate. I can't believe he's my son. I mean, what kind of son rats his father out to the police?! Anne kept her mouth shut, why couldn't he?! It's because he's selfish, only thinking of himself. He refuses to go to Dartmouth, and he refuses to marry Blair Waldorf. Both would endorse me in a huge way, but of course, _he's _got better plans! Nate knows all! Nate thinks he's going to change the world! It makes me wonder where I went wrong.

11/26/07

I hate this place. It smells like old fish constantly and I'm not getting any cocaine. I think I'm going to start losing my mind if I don't get some soon. I know I sound like an asshole, but I wouldn't be writing this right now if I was Mr. No Drugs.

11/29/07

I really, really miss my apartment. I miss my bed and my living room couch and my unbroken toilet. I want to go home!

12/3/07

It's snowing outside today. Anne came to visit me. She said the proceedings for the trial have been put on hold, naturally. We started talking about Nate, and she burst into tears. He betrayed us both. We had always been suspicious of our son because he hid a lot of his life from us. I know I go away a lot for business, but that doesn't mean he can't keep me updated on his life. Whenever I ask him about school or Blair, he just says everything's fine. No specific details. I don't know what he thinks about a lot of the time. He has an uncanny ability to be too private. It makes Anne and I disturbed. We thought we had him on a tight leash. He never disobeyed us before. Suddenly, everything has changed. I thank God that after all of this, Anne still loves me. She agrees that it's Nate's fault, and just like me she has no clue what to do with him.

12/5/07

That bastard doctor came in and he wouldn't give me anything. He's fucking killing me! I need it! I'm dying! I hate everyone here. This just isn't right. Why am I here??

12/6/07

I can't sleep. It's getting harder and harder every day. I'm not used to being without cocaine for so long. I had a dream that I was getting some, and it made me happy and relieved. Then I woke up and it was all a dream. Then the battle began all over again.

12/8/07

I wonder how Nate's doing in school today. I've been thinking about him lately, trying to get my mind focused on something else. He's probably at a desk right now, snoozing through a lesson.

The nurse just brought me a newspaper. Bart Bass is on the front page. Something about a new business deal or whatnot. He and I were never that close, even though our sons are. Nate stays with Chuck Bass a lot, especially recently. Whenever I came home in the past, Anne would say Nate was gone with Chuck somewhere or other. I wish Nate was more like Chuck in some respects. Chuck is loyal to his father. I've asked Nate a million times why he couldn't be more like Chuck. Then Nate would say something about womanizing and booze and run off. I never really cared to hear what he said back, because what he usually says back is stupid.

12/15/07

It looks like Christmas outside my window. I remember our first family Christmas. Our apartment was elaborately decorated with garland, stockings, poinsettias, etc. Our tree was large and magnificent. Nate crawled back then. His skin was peachy and soft. He had a tiny head, smaller than the rest of his body. But it was cute because he had this blonde fuzz on top of it. He was a very curious child. I remember him crawling over to the Christmas tree in his little red one piece outfit. He reached out to touch one of the big green ornament balls with his tiny, pudgy fingers. I still remember how large his blue eyes got. He was fascinated by almost everything. When he was a year older he got one of those lawn mower toys (that popped multicolored balls in them as he pushed it around) for Christmas. He loved that thing, and he would laugh an amused baby laugh as he rolled it around the living room. It would always make me smile. I haven't heard Nate laugh in a long time.

12/16/07

I've been feeling good today, a little less irritable. Hey, it's a step forward.

12/18/07

You know what I've noticed? Anne has always defended me. Whether it was Nate or a room filled with businessmen, she has always taken my side. I'm happy for that, but I often think that she doesn't even hear the other side of the story. She never disagrees with me on anything. I'm crazy for thinking it, but aren't we supposed to argue once and a while? I think she jumps to conclusions way too much as well. She assumes things all the time. She was talking to me about Nate again today when she came to visit. We talked about how his selfishness landed me here. I asked her if she even knew why he had handed me over, and her face went blank. It just made me think, was all. Then I realized that I couldn't really think of a reason either.

12/20/07

They told me I'm doing well. I have been feeling less and less depressed lately, but that's all I can say.

12/21/07

When Nate was in fifth grade, he became frustrated because he wasn't as smart as some of the other kids. I told him it was okay. He was worried that he was dumb and no one would like him when he got older. I told him that as long as he had money, everyone would like him.

12/23/07

I just can't figure out why Nate didn't give Blair that ring. He's been madly in love with her for years. He has her heart pin sewed into his green sweater, for God's sake. Why has he suddenly changed his mind? Just what is going on in his head? I can't think about it much longer. I'm so confused. I don't feel like writing anymore.

12/26/07

I just got a call from Monaco. Nate's there with Chuck on a holiday. He said he's having a lot of fun. I was glad to hear that, after he had been so upset on Thanksgiving. I was thinking about the painkillers I took that day because of how upset I was at him. That's the real reason why I'm here. Well, that and the cocaine. It was nice to talk to him again. He really sounded cheery. I thought he was content all the time, but he actually sounds like he's happier over there.

12/31/07

So it's New Year's Eve. We usually host a big party at my house and invite a lot of our friends. Not this year, though. Anne is distressed, and as far as I know Nate is still in Monaco. I miss my friends. I miss my son, as mad as I am at him. I just keep thinking about when he was younger, and when he had that little school uniform, and when he ran around the playground with Blair and Chuck and Serena Van Der Woodsen. Things were so simple back then.

1/2/08

I went back and read all of my entries, and I'm very sad because I've realized that the only time I've ever listened to Nate was when he called me that one day after Christmas. He never had an opinion on anything else, because he was never allowed to. I think I've been in control much more than I thought. I tried calling his cell phone today, but it was off.

1/3/08

He wouldn't have put me in here had he not cared. That's the new conclusion I've come up with. Nate does love me, otherwise I wouldn't be here. I wanted some coke this afternoon, but then I just thought about him and I didn't want it anymore.

1/4/08

Nate let me in on the news today that somebody broke into the school's pool, and that he thought it was Blair. He saw the key to the pool in her dresser drawer. I doubt Blair would do something like that. I told him that, but he says she's been acting different towards him lately. He informed me that they were back together, and for some reason I wasn't as relieved as I thought I would be. I don't know if he was telling me about how she was acting to give a good reason to break up again or just to let me know. All I know for certain was that I told him to do what he thought was right.

1/5/08

I was thinking back today on how many times Nate has acted strange. One night in October he came home from Blair's masquerade ball party, looking as though he saw I ghost. I wanted to question him about it, but he went to his room and went to sleep before the matter could be discussed. The one particular moment was when he left the Ivy Part back in September. I tried to stop him, seeing that another dark-haired boy was making an impression on the Dartmouth rep. I'll never forget the way he refused me. His eyes were filled with such anger. It was the first time he had ever disobeyed me. I had to get the Dartmouth guy to come jog with us the next morning.

I love those morning jogs with Nate. Granted, we never talk much because we're running, but it's the only time I really get to see him. Even if the answer "Blair and school are fine" is the only answer I ever receive to my occasional questions, it's still nice. He was so awkward with that Dartmouth rep. He must really not want to go there. Why I don't know, but I guess he honestly doesn't want to. Where else would he go, though? He never knows exactly what he wants. I've always told him what he wants…

I can't believe I just said that. And that it's the truth. He must not want Blair, either. Wow. Wow, this is just…wow. All this time I've just been in control of everything in his life, and I never even realized it. He never really disobeyed me; he just wanted a chance to run his own life.

I think I have to go make a phone call.

1/8/08

Nate got suspended from St. Jude's. He was defending Blair, thinking that she broke into the pool. I wasn't really mad at him, I'm just baffled. I guess he really does care about her. I'm so confused now! Does he love her or doesn't he? I think I was right before: does Nate even know what he wants? Who can tell? I wish there was an easy answer. I think I've entered the play too late in the act to understand what's going on.

1/11/08

It's funny how this journal has more about Nate in it than my problem. I really couldn't write about my weaning experience. In the beginning it was very difficult, but it's gotten easier now. I thought I was going to die without that cocaine, but I'm making it now. Anne came to visit again yesterday, and the doctors said I might be ready in a few weeks to be released. She was overjoyed, but her happiness faded when I wanted to discuss Nate again. I asked her if she really wanted him to have the life that I wanted for him. She replied yes, and I stated that I knew he would be unhappy. She didn't have a direct answer. Then we had the first fight we've had in many, many years. I told her that maybe, possibly Nate is indecisive because of the way we controlled him. He's growing up and he's thinking about what he truly desires. All she could do was ask where I was getting these ideas and accuse me of trying to make up excuses for him. Then she stormed out the door. I don't know if I could ever make her understand what I've been thinking. I barely understand it myself.

1/12/08

I was thinking again about Nate's future. If he doesn't go to Dartmouth, where will he go? If he isn't with Blair, just who will he end up with? What if he's not as successful as I was? What if he ends up poor and desolate? I keep asking myself all of these scary questions, questions that could have a billion different answers. I wonder if Nate could handle any of those other options. It's sad how I don't know if my own son is strong enough to handle life.

1/14/08

I haven't written in a few days because I'm depressed about my previous entry. I used to be able to turn to cocaine when I was depressed or upset, but I can't do that anymore. Nate was so disappointed when he found out, and when I tried to blame it on him. I thought it was the best move to blame him. I thought he would have just accepted it and moved on. I can't get over how stupid I was. I'll bet he was crushed. In the beginning of this journal all I could think about was what a bad son he was. Really, I'm just a terrible father. What kind of father blames an addiction on his son?! Who am I to do that to anyone, especially my own flesh and blood?! That could have ruined him if he had remained silent and not turned me in.

I hate myself. I really, really do.

1/15/08

I made an apology yesterday. I told Nate I was sorry. He accepted it, which is very like him. I couldn't help but still be angry at myself. I told him that from now on I was going to listen to him. There would be no more "I'm right, you're wrong." He just replied "okay." I don't think he'll ever come to me for anything. Frankly I don't blame him.

1/16/08

He asked me to read to him when he was little, but I didn't have the time. Neither did his mother. He said that some of the other boys in his class got stories read to them before bed at night. I told him not to worry about the other boys.

1/17/08

I was thinking about my son's friends today, something I've done a lot. Blair is just…well, Blair is Blair. The pristine daughter of a socialite, the perfect match for Nate. Or so I used to think. Now I'm leaving it up to him if he wants to be with her or not, and it seems like he does. It still baffles me, though, why he didn't want to be with her and then he did want to be with her.

Then there's that other girl, Serena. Nate always liked her. Whenever I talked to her she was friendly and polite, and Nate always smiled around her. The more I think about it, he might have a little affection for her. I'm just putting it together after all of these years. Anne told me about when they were little they would play around together and Nate seemed to have a crush. He did seem very upset when Serena left, that I do recall. Is that who he wants instead of Blair? I can't be certain, but it's a thought. I wonder what's going on in Serena's life.

I don't have a friend in the world that would come to my rescue if I needed it. Nate told Anne that Chuck did just that. I don't remember the full story she told me, but it was something with gambling and that Carter Baizen who graduated a few years back. All I know is that Chuck saved Nate from a beating. I didn't realize how close of friends they were. No wonder Nate goes over to Chuck's all the time; I'll bet he tells him everything that Anne and I don't hear. Chuck probably knows Nate better than I do, which is sad. Yet I have a lot to thank that Bass boy for.

It's funny how all of these years have gone by and only now am I beginning to appreciate the people that my son hangs out with. I didn't realize when he came home with dirty pants from playing in the sandbox with them that they were always going to be there for the rest of his life. I feel so belittled when I compare that to the friends I have who are loyal only because I can help them in business. It's pathetic because without my money I'm nothing. Even if Nate fails at every job in life, his friends will still stand by him and encourage him. Sweet Jesus, I really am nothing but a fraud.

1/18/08

They call me the Captain, and by "they" I mean everyone on the Upper East Side. It's because I was a Navy Captain back in my younger years. Back then I thought I owned the world. I thought I knew everything. Now I feel the exact opposite.

1/19/08

I remembered something today. I saw Nate kiss Serena under a purple flowered tree while they were in middle school. I was there to talk to the principal about Nate's failing grade in science. I thought I had seen them as I was pulling up, but I didn't have time to walk over to them. After the principal's meeting I had to go golfing with a few men who I was trying to make a deal with. I completely forgot about that incident until now. Funny how random moments get stored in your memory.

1/20/08

I was sitting and looking out my window today, something that has become a routine of mine. Suddenly, my son walked through the door. I was surprised to see him. He hadn't come to visit me since he dropped me off on Thanksgiving. It's funny, but I looked at him in a different way. He seemed more mature to me now, more like a man who could stand on his own. Before he was just Nate, my boy. He wore a grey hooded sweater and a pair of blue jeans. His blue eyes looked at me, and I suppose he was wondering what I would say to him.

"Nate, you don't know how happy I am to see you right now," I admitted. I couldn't keep myself from smiling. It was like all of this time helped me rediscover my son and how truly special he was. He meant so much to me. He asked me how I was feeling, and I told him that I was fine. He made some light conversation before telling me something big.

"There's a specific reason why I came here," Nate said. I smiled and told him to tell me. He seemed more comfortable than when he usually talked to me. He came and sat down beside me on the sky-blue blanketed bed. He looked up at me with sad, puppy dog eyes. "I think I lost my best friend and my girlfriend in the same day." I was surprised.

"Chuck and Blair? What happened?" I wondered what they had done. Out of all people, they seemed the closest to him. He would never just disown them as friends for no reason. Nate looked like he was about to cry. I'll never forget the next words that came out from his lips.

"They slept together, dad. They slept together the night I turned you in. And they went on lying about it for weeks."

Nothing could have shocked me or made me angrier then that news. I never would have thought either of those two to do such a thing. Blair did not seem like a slut at all. The fact that she had slept with Nate's best friend made her image even worse. You may think it was more shocking for me to hear about Blair, since she always seemed so perfect, but it was equally shocking to hear about Chuck. Chuck always was loyal to Nate. He was the one true person that Nate trusted. I couldn't get over what he had done to him.

I reached over and hugged my son. I felt his shoulders heave and I could tell he was crying. I told him to let it out. I had never seen him cry before, but I would have done the same. I hated both Chuck and Blair at that moment. They weren't as loyal as I thought they were.

"I haven't been the best boyfriend in the world, but I really did care about her…and I thought he was my best friend…" Nate couldn't stop talking. In his mix of words he told me about what he did with Serena almost a year ago. My eyes widened, and I couldn't believe what I had heard.

"Maybe I deserve it…but I thought all was forgiven…" Nate uttered. As soon as he had calmed down, I told him what I felt. I told him that he never should have done what he did with Serena, because now it had come back to him. I told him I was sorry, for I never expected Chuck and Blair to be like that; however, he wasn't one to judge. I told him to give them both another chance. He glowered at me.

"You just want me to stay on good terms with them because both of their families are rich. I didn't come here so that you could order me around, dad!"

I told him that I wasn't trying to. I just couldn't believe what he had done to Blair, and I equally couldn't believe what she and Chuck had done to him. It was hard to point fingers, but Blair wouldn't have been likely to cheat had he not cheated first. He looked at me hatefully.

"I thought that you, out of all people, would have taken my side. When I talked to you that one night, I thought you had changed. I was wrong, just like I was wrong about the trustworthiness and morality of my friends." Nate turned to leave. I called out his name to get him to come back, but he walked out of the room and slammed the door. He was truly a broken boy.

I leaned back against my pillow and I picked you up, journal. It feels like everything I do is wrong. When I was not understanding towards my son he was upset. Now when I'm trying to be understanding, he's even more upset. And either way, he still slept with Serena. I just can't believe that. I know that Nate is a good person at heart, so it shocks me so much that he did something like that. I would punish him for it, but I think he's suffered enough with the Chuck and Blair thing. What bothers me the most is that all of this went on, and I had no idea. I knew I wasn't that involved in my son's life, but this really takes the cake. I was going to call Anne, but I don't think I can face her or anyone else. You have no idea how incredibly lost, stupid, and bereft I feel right now. I've missed my son grow up. I've missed enforcing morals upon them so that he wouldn't sleep with his girlfriend's best friend. All I cared about was him having the ideal future I wanted him to have. He was like a trophy son, and I'm responsible for that. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself.

1/21/08

He had this brown puppy with white spots. He brought it home one day when he was eight. I told him to get it out, that there weren't any dogs allowed in the apartments. I could tell how sad he was when he brought it back down the steps. He moaned like a dog himself for a few nights in bed, and I never went in to console him. He had lost a friend, and I wasn't there for him. Lord knows, I was never a friend he could confide in. Chuck used to be, but I don't think Nate will ever look at him the same way again. He's got to be so lonely right now, and I don't know what to do. It hurts me so much, how bad of a father I've become. I still think about that puppy sometimes, and if it ever found a new friend.

END OF PART IV


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow everyone, I'm so sorry for taking so long to get this up! It feels like I haven't written anything in forever! I feel so ashamed, but my ACTs are done and school is ending soon so I think I'm back! I hope you guys won't be too mad. **

**Oh, and one last thing: I'm also sorry if I left any comments on any of your stories here at fanfiction and they've come up as only one letter or word. I have no idea why that's been happening. My computer has been acting up (yet another reason why I've been gone for a while), but hopefully it will be okay now. Sorry once more, and I hope you like chapter five!**

**Fallen Angels: Part Five**

I once regretted the one thing that taught me the most about myself.

It all happened the day that Alison told me that she was pregnant. On the outside I was happy and jumped for joy along with her. However, when I laid next to her in bed at night, listening to her breathing interrupt the room's dark silence, I couldn't help but be afraid. I did not want that baby. Not when I didn't love its mother.

I can't lie; I did love her, but not as much as Lily. There was no way that I would love anyone as much as I loved Lily. But Lily had moved on--many times, in fact. I finally decided that it was time to give up on her and just look forward to the rest of my life. I tried to push Lily out of my dreams at night as best as I could. I tried, but my attempts turned more and more futile until I eventually stopped altogether. The days went by slowly until Alison finally went to the emergency room. I remained with her until the baby was completely out. After comforting her for a little while, I ran to pick up our son.

"Why is mommy so tired?" he asked as I led him out of his mother's room by his little hand. I smiled as I looked at him in his little white sweater with a picture of a train sewed into it. His jet black hair had recently been cut and shaped nicely.

"Because she had a baby, Dan. That's how you were born, too."

"How?" I couldn't help but laugh in delight at his big, questioning brown eyes. Dan was, and always will be, an intelligent child. He asked questions right from the beginning. I respected my son too much to give him the old stork lie.

"You'll understand one day, son." I brought him to the room where they kept the babies. There were a few small carts with plastic trays. I lifted my son up and put him on my shoulder. I looked through the shiny glass and pointed a finger once I found what I was looking for. "Dan, that's your new baby sister. Her name is Jenny."

Her staring eyes reminded me of two blueberries as they tried to figure out who the two strangers were looking inside at her. She was wrapped in a pink baby blanket, her tiny hands resting by her sides. Dan smiled widely, the few tiny teeth he had showing. He brought up a little chubby hand and waved it. Jenny stuck her tongue out.

* * *

Most siblings hate new babies at first for coming into the family and usurping their territory, but Dan loved his sister right away. In Jenny he found a playmate, and I found a pain in the middle of the night whenever she cried. I found a pain when her mother bought too much clothes for her and ran up the credit card bills. I found a pain when I held her on my lap and cradled her in my arms, thinking only about how she wasn't the child of Lily and me.

Jenny crawled early, only because Dan walked and she wanted to walk along with him. For a while she was satisfied with crawling but eventually she became frustrated when she couldn't run with Dan around the loft. Even though Dan got yelled at for jumping on couches and playing tag with himself, Jenny wanted to follow anything he did.

"That's children, Rufus," Alison said harshly to me at dinner one night. "All younger kids want to do everything the older ones do." She played with the teabag in her cup of steaming water. "Don't be overanalyzing her every move."

I couldn't help myself. As much as I kept thinking about whether I went with right mother, I loved my daughter. She was so young and vulnerable. I vowed to care for her the way that I cared for Dan. Jenny would get everything that I could give her, safety or anything else. And for a good parent--and as I've learned a not-so-good parent-- that's a lot to give.

* * *

As Jenny grew, so did the closeness of our family. Alison went on small trips for her art displays but always came home happy. Whenever she was gone, there was not a day that went by without one of the kids calling her. They loved her art too, and always stopped by the Bedford Avenue Gallery that I opened up five years after Jenny was born. Jenny learned a lot from her brother, but there was one thing that she learned early on that I still don't know where she learned it from. Jenny knew how to be two people in one. At home she would be the nice little girl I knew who wanted ketchup on her macaroni and cheese. She would laugh with Dan and burst into his room and play camping with his football sheets. When she came home from first and second grade, though, I would see another side to her, one that I never knew existed until then.

For instance, Dan always let Jenny play with him and his friends whenever his friends came over to play. He had a few friends when he was little, ones who never withstood the test of time. Sometimes it was obvious that Dan didn't want her to join them, but he still allowed her to without argument. When Jenny had friends over as she got older, she told Dan not to bother her at all. If ever he came in her room when her friends were there, she often became annoyed and spoke to him in a tone that made him look like anything but a human being. I told her to stop, but Alison warned me not to be forceful.

"She's just in that stage where she's making friends and thinks her family will ruin her chances at being popular. Don't worry about it, Rufus. Jenny will be alright."

As I watched her talk to Dan more and more like that when her friends came over and listened to her laugh along when some of them laughed at kids in her class, I could only hope that Alison was right. There was one day, though, where I could no longer stand by and be silent. Jenny came home from second grade and asked for some cold lemonade.

"How was your day?" I asked as I took the pitcher out of the fridge. "Did anything interesting happen?"

"Sasha fell into a mud puddle today," she said about a girl in her class. "We all laughed." I put the pitcher down and looked at her in disbelief.

"You laughed at her?" I asked. Jenny averted my eyes from mine. "Jenny, you know that was mean of you. What if you fell and everyone laughed at you? Would you like it?" She was quiet for a minute before whispering no. "Exactly. So don't you do it to other people."

"But Beth and the other girls all did it too!" Jenny said, as if that redeemed her. I shook my head.

"I don't care what the other girls do, Jenny. You are my daughter and my daughter will not be mean to other people." Jenny sighed exasperatedly, the way her mother did whenever she was angry at me for one reason or another. I got down and looked her straight in the eyes to show her that I meant business. "Promise me that you won't do that again." She looked down for a minute again before nodding slowly. I could tell that she was feeling bad.

"I won't, daddy."

That was the last I heard of any cruel intentions for a while. Jenny spoke to Dan normally again, even in the presence of her friends. That second person was buried for a long time before being resurrected. I had heard of the cruelty of today's generation of kids, and I did not want that to be my daughter.

* * *

For Jenny's seventh birthday, Alison and I bought her a sewing machine. She was into knitting at the time and was gaining a new love of putting fabric together. When Jenny opened the sewing machine, she nearly died of happiness.

"Thank you mom and dad! Thank you so much!"

Ever since that birthday she studied fashion magazines and took notice of what every other girl was wearing and sewed her own similar creations. I noticed that whenever Jenny seemed stressed out over school or something that had happened to her, she retired to her sewing machine. I started to be able to tell whenever she had a bad day. She would walk in with a heavy backpack and a sad dog expression on her face. I would smile.

"Going to the sweatshop?" I'd ask her. At this she would smile back at me.

"You know it." Then she would go to her room and shut the door. Not only was sewing her comfort, but her ability to make clothes was a huge talent that I complimented her on many times. I always tried to support her in everything good that she did.

"You could be a fashion designer one day," I suggested to her one day. "Like Coco Chanel or Eleanor Waldorf." Jenny laughed.

"Dad, since when do you know designers?"

"Oh I don't know, ever since I had to buy your mother expensive things for her birthday when we were going out," I replied. My daughter smiled, then her smile became a line of question.

"Dad, how come we don't ever get designer stuff?"

"You know we can't afford that, Jenny." I didn't want to have the embarrassing "why we aren't that rich" conversation, but it seemed like there was no getting around it. "Why? Are your friends all getting designer things?"

"No. It's just that I look in these magazines at this stuff, and I always ask mom for some of it for my birthday or Christmas and you guys never get me any of it. I thought maybe you just didn't like it."

"That's not it. It's just that not all of us have extra money to spend on frivolous things like that." She nodded, but I could tell that she looked a little downhearted. I felt sad, because I wanted to badly for her to have everything, and I couldn't get it for her. I tried to cheer her up. "Besides, why would we need designer clothes when we have the best clothing maker in the world right under this roof?" Jenny smiled cheerfully, and I knew my job was done.

"Thanks dad."

* * *

When Jenny was in sixth grade, she came home and asked me an important question. Well, one that was important to her.

"Dad, I just got invited to this party on Saturday night. Can I go?" she asked me in a sweetened voice. Dan, who sat at the table with his mother, sighed.

"Yeah, why not go and spend a few hours with those lovable people who have to have other people over telling them they're great just to convince themselves that they're great?" Dan asked sarcastically. Jenny turned to him.

"For your information," she said matter-of-factly, "those people happen to be my friends and they personally invited me." She looked back at me brightly. "So can I go, can I?"

"What kind of people are going to be there?" I asked. I remember putting a hand on my chin as Alison looked at me with bulging eyes.

"Just Beth and some more of my friends. And her friends."

"And boys?"

"What about them?"

"Will there be boys there?"

"Probably…" I looked at her austerely.

"Jenny."

"Dad, I'll be fine! I promise that I'm not going to do anything!"

"I know that you won't do anything, but…" I sighed and looked at my wife for help. "What do you think, Alison?" Jenny turned to her mother hopefully.

"I think it would be fine," Alison replied. Jenny pumped her fists in joy, another thing she had learned from her brother. I looked at Alison with a raised eyebrow.

"You don't think she's a little too young to be partying?"

"Oh Rufus, it's not going to be anything huge. I went to parties at her age and it was nothing like our high school or college parties."

"Mom, you don't really get it," Dan chirped in. "Things are a little different now." Jenny sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Dan! Can't you be on my side for once?!"

"Your brother's only looking out for you," I said. "I don't know if this is such a good idea."

"Dad! It's only a party! I'll be fine! Come on, mom said it was alright!" I stared as she looked at me pleadingly.

"Alright, alright." I finally gave in, and it didn't feel too good. Jenny screeched happily and ran over to give me a hug.

"Thanks dad! You're the best!" Then she turned and ran to her room. "I'm going to go make something I can wear right now!" she called out behind her shoulder. Then she closed the door. Dan shook his head and smiled wryly.

"I can't wait to see how _this _ends up," he said. Alison looked at him.

"Maybe you should be going to this parties too, Dan. Make an effort to get involved with some people. You are graduating soon and you have no memories of your last few years."

"I read a few incredible books that I'll remember for a lifetime," Dan said. "I'd rather do that then go to a party with a bunch of fakes and bitches."

I went to bed that night, thinking about what Dan had said. I knew that Jenny didn't feel that way. When she came home from that party, she was extremely happy. For the rest of her sixth grade year and all through summer, Alison and I sat through many of Jenny's stories.

"Susan stole Tarnisha's boyfriend and Tarnisha was crying all day."

"You wouldn't believe it! Someone walked in on Rose throwing up in the bathroom! Everyone thinks that's the reason why she's so thin!"

I never thought that Jenny followed that crowd too much--until I discovered a pack of cigarettes in her open backpack one day. I was so enraged that I just stormed to my room and told Alison when I was finally ready to.

"Don't be so hard on her," Alison said.

"Alison, our daughter has taken up smoking."

"I'm sure she isn't addicted or anything. It was probably just an experiment."

"That doesn't make it right."

"I know, but just don't be too harsh, okay?"

When I approached Jenny with the cancer sticks, she said she only tried one in front of the other girls and that she didn't like it. I checked the box and saw that only one was missing indeed.

"Did they force you to try it?" I asked her. She put a hand on my arm and looked at me assuredly.

"Don't worry, dad. I may be going to a lot of parties and hanging out with different people, but I'm still the same old Jenny, alright?" I smiled a little, thinking about how her personality had not changed even though the people she hung out with had.

"I know," I replied. "I know."

I left her room and crushed the box of cigarettes under my shoe before tossing them into the garbage. Dan never found out about the whole ordeal, and I don't plan on ever telling him. Eventually things happened and Jenny broke off with those friends of hers. I don't remember the full story, but I guess one of them got alcohol poisoning in the summer before Jenny entered seventh grade. Then Jenny went back to being friends with a group who didn't party as hard, and she became her normal self again. Her actions confused me so much.

"It's just a faze," Alison said. "It's only a faze."

* * *

Before I knew it, Jenny was in seventh grade and Dan was a freshman in high school. Alison and I had raised enough money to send Dan to a private all-boys school on the Upper East Side of New York called St. Jude's. It was the brother school of a private all-girls school named Constance Billard. Dan had done so well in school and we didn't want to send him to one of the average high schools that were close by. We searched for anything better and came across St. Jude's. It was known for being an esteemed school and we all felt that Dan could accomplish much there.

"Does this mean that I get to go to Constance Billard?" Jenny asked when she heard about her brother's new school.

"If you can keep your grades up and we can keep our income at this level, then probably," I said. Jenny was so shocked that she couldn't even gasp. She jumped up and down excitedly and began rattling off words.

"Oh my God, they're so rich and so cool and so stylish and so…cool there! They probably have all this expensive stuff and…oh my God!" She laughed a little and hopped to her room. Dan put on a fake look of confusion.

"Um, excuse me, but is she the one really going or me?" he asked sarcastically.

As soon as Dan came home from his first day of high school, he learned that the world of the Upper East Side was so much different than his own. For reasons I couldn't explain to him, I already knew that. Jenny seemed to know that too, except that she was anticipating joining that world instead of shying from it. She began to sew more clothes than usual.

"I wonder if this looks good enough," Jenny asked one day, holding up a pink beret that she made at the dinner table one night. I laughed.

"You know, you're not going there for another two years," I reminded her.

"I know, but I have to be prepared! Those people are always on top of things!"

For the longest time I wondered how she knew anything about "those people." Dan revealed it to me one day: there was a website that tracked every move of those Upper East Side teenagers. I even saw it myself one day. All I can say is that I don't know why it hasn't been shut down. It posts is lies and more lies, something that I just can't take. When I first laid eyes on that screen, I wondered what kind of parents would let their kids get away with such things. I wondered how they could be so uninvolved in their children's lives that they didn't know about this website. Then I saw Lily's daughter's name on there and became even more disgusted at the lack of parenting that was going on.

I was even thinking about going to the St. Jude's headmaster and reporting that website.

"Don't cause a scene," Alison cautioned. "We're the outsiders coming in to their world, and to just suddenly start things wouldn't be good. Besides, I think that if those teenagers have handled it all before, they can continue to do it. They're rich, Rufus; let them fight their own battles and let us fight ours."

As Dan became increasingly unpopular at St. Jude's and as I listened to Jenny's excited hopes, I couldn't help but think that our battles would somehow involve them and theirs would involve us.

* * *

The day that Jenny was waiting for finally came true: she set foot in the gigantic courtyard outside of Constance Billard. As I watched her go I was filled with sadness. The last of my children was off to high school with nothing but her preteen hopes and dreams ahead of her waiting to be achieved. Alison wasn't with me to see her off; she had gone to Hudson to work on her art. She said she needed some time.

"Jenny?" I said to my daughter before she got out of the car. She looked at me, and she looked a little nervous. The moment she had dreamed of for two years had arrived, and she seemed to be more than a little anxious.

"Yes dad?" I smiled at her warmly.

"I want to let you know that I love you and that I'm very proud of you. You'll be absolutely fine here." She looked normal and happy again, the way she always did whenever I told her how I felt about her.

"Thanks dad. I love you too."

She leaned over and gave me one last hug before leaving. I watched her go, both excited and scared for her. Dan had managed in the Upper East Side, and I only hoped that Jenny would as well. I felt that while I didn't have the money like the rest of those kids' parents did, I did have two great kids, including a kindhearted daughter.

* * *

When Jenny walked away and into that school, everything normal in my life walked away with her. Dan started dating Lily's daughter Serena, something that was more ironic to me then I let on. Jenny was nearly raped by Chuck Bass, the son of a certain billionaire, at a party. Although Jenny bounced back quickly, it scared the hell out of me to think what would have happened had Dan not come to her rescue.

The worst thing that happened was finding out that Alison had cheated on me with a man named Alex. When I found out, it pierced my heart like a million knives, even though I had already suspected it when she didn't return home after the summer or early fall. Dan certainly knew and I personally think that he hid behind his pain. Jenny, however, was crushed. She wouldn't tell me that she was, but I could tell in her face. Her eyes looked sadder and not the same after she found out that her mother had abandoned her, her brother, and her father.

"I'm going to the sweatshop," she would say after dinner a lot of the time. She would remain in her room for hours desperately trying to make things that could look as fancy as what Serena Van Der Woodsen and Blair Waldorf wore. I never stopped her.

Jenny even tried to make things better by going to Hudson and bringing Alison home. She and I talked things over, and even insulted each other. I couldn't stop throwing the cheating in her face, and she threw Lily in mine. Lily and I had been seeing each other and talking to each other a lot, unknown to the kids. But, after Alison and I got past that, things seemed to be a little better. Jenny's plan almost worked--until I found out that Alison was still talking to Alex. Alison blamed me about Lily again, who no matter how hard I tried I could not stray from. We realized that getting back together was never going to work. When Alison left for good (on Christmas), I was very sad and relieved. On one hand she was the mother of my children and the woman I used to love. On the other hand, I was glad that I could finally stop living a lie. When she left I turned and looked at my two kids, wondering how I was going to make it as a single dad. How was I going to take care of them all by myself?

Dan didn't seem surprised at all; Jenny looked devastated.

* * *

As for Alison's accusations about Lily, I'm not going to get into them. My personal life is long and complicated, and it would make me feel emotional and wishy-washy to look back on what took place between us before she became engaged to Bart Bass. I'll just say that she was the reason why Alison felt she was excused from her sin, and I finally just let her believe what she thought.

The worst thing happened when Alison left: Jenny began to change again, and I didn't even recognize her. I used to be able to tell what she was thinking and say the right things to her. After Alison left, Jenny talked and looked at me as if I was an embarrassment. Ever since she began going to Constance she changed a little. She came home with dresses and jackets that looked far out of her price range, and she even missed an art show that Alison hosted while she was here. But after Alison left, it got worse. Jenny's grades started to drop and she began hanging out with the richest and, I suppose, the most popular girls at Constance. She checked Gossip Girl about every twenty minutes. She sold her sewing machine so that she could buy expensive clothes. When I walked into her room and saw that missing from her shelf, it nearly drove me to tears.

The worst moment of all was on her birthday when I discovered that she stole a dress.

"It's what I have to do, dad! Or else I'll have no friends!" she exclaimed teary-eyed when I confronted her about it. I couldn't imagine what kind of friends would drive a person to steal in order to be able to hang out with them. Her voice became strained when she yelled at me, just like Alison. She reminded me of her mother so much, and I often thought about how her mother's advice may have encouraged her behavior.

Dan was a busy boy but I had a chance to sit down and talk with him at dinner one night when Jenny was out again.

"I just don't understand," I said to him. "When I look at Jenny I don't see my daughter anymore. I see this distant, materialistic…"

"Bitch?" Dan suggested. As much as it pained me to, I nodded in agreement. "Dad, I hate admitting it as much as you do, but Jenny must be like that a little bit if she's acting this way. I tried to get her away from that group too, but she didn't listen. You can't help the person that she chooses to be."

I was still lost. I knew that as much as Jenny said that being in that crowd would make her happy, I could tell that she wasn't. I didn't know what she wanted. I just knew what I wanted ever since she was born: to make her happy. I hadn't been happy in my marriage to Alison and I only wanted to raise Jenny so that things would be different for her. I felt like I had given her everything I could, and yet it still wasn't enough. Ever since Alison left Jenny had turned into the exact opposite of what I wanted her to be. I blamed the way she acted on myself because I didn't know what to do in response. I thought back to how I criticized the parents of those children on the Gossip Girl website. Then I thought about Jenny and I felt like lying down and dying.

* * *

I was so desperate that I even went to Lily and asked her what I could do.

"She'll come back to you," Lily assured. "It just may take a little time." But I didn't want to wait. I wanted everything to be back to normal right at that minute. But I knew Lily was right, despite my wishes. It would take time.

Jenny had even begun to date someone. His name was Asher, and I thought he was nice but shady ever since I first met him. Jenny walked out on me one night to go to a party with him, and when she came back home she looked absolutely shattered.

"Dad, do you think I could join you?" she asked as she looked at Dan and I playing Scrabble. I said that she could. She sat down beside me and, after looking at me sadly, threw her arms around me and cried heavily.

"I'm so sorry, dad. I'm sorry for everything…"

As I held her and as Dan looked on, I realized that she wasn't a bad kid, and that I wasn't a bad father. We were just new to two different worlds, the crazy Upper East Side and the hectic world of single parents. We both were confused and willing to do anything to make our situations work out alright. And just like with any other path we may take in life, mistakes can be made. But they can also be forgiven.

"I'm so, so sorry…"

What a difference time makes.

END OF PART V


	6. Final Chapter

**Wow, I am ashamed that it's taken me so long to get this story finished. At least I've learned two things: one, never start a fanfic when you're occupied with other stuff, and two, never start another fanfic before I finish the first one! LOL. Anyways, last chapter, hope you all enjoy it! :D**

**Fallen Angels: Final Part**

My voice of reason is out of my head.

His father loved him so much. When I walked out of the hospital with the little baby in my arms, my husband looked at him as though he were a piece of precious gold. I remember pushing the thin strands of black hair out of his brown eyes as we drove home.

"Daniel Humphrey," Rufus said softly. "It stands out. I like it." I nodded as I watched my baby's small, pudgy arms fall to his sides. "He's going to be a great man someday," Rufus added. I laughed, remembering how my mother told me that all new fathers speak as though their children would one day be saviors of the world.

"Yes he will be," I replied. The deep brown eyes looking up at me from my lap began to close shut. When we hit a pothole in the road, his eyes remained closed. So did his mouth.

Dan laughed the second we brought him into our Brooklyn loft for the first time, and he loved living there ever since. He was a very calm baby. He never cried much during the day or at night. His first crawling was the cutest thing I have ever seen. I would sometimes be at the counter cutting vegetables or cheese cubes when I would suddenly hear a little squeal of interest and the sound of palms hitting against the hardwood floor. I would lean over the counter and spot him crawling furiously in his diaper and little green t-shirt. He looked as if he was on an important mission, yet at the same time he looked so adorable that he could not be taken seriously. I would watch him in awe, surprised that such a little baby could be so determined. Sometimes he would plop onto the floor and sit there, looking at me with a babyish luster in his face. And I would smile.

Rufus and I took turns reading to him. For some reason, Dan was always attracted to books about animals. He understood us early on; when we would ask him to point to the elephant, he would do it. His first word was "lion." He sometimes sat on the floor with his books, flipping through the pages over and over again. Rufus laughed at this.

"He's a bookworm," Rufus once told me.

"That's a good thing," I replied.

When he was a little older and started walking and talking more, Dan asked to see my poetry books lined up on the shelves. Sometimes I would read him some happy poems that he would understand, but most of the time I just let him take the books. One time my mother came over for dinner and saw Dan paging through one of them. He happened to be looking at a poem about death. My mother immediately tore it out of his hands and placed it into my own.

"You let your son read these death-filled books?! What are you thinking, Alison?!" My mother was always high-strung and never one for depressing poetry. Dan looked up at her and his little hands shook. He seemed confused as to why the book that he had looked at many times before suddenly was taken from him. Later when my mom left, I gave Dan back the book and he smiled at me in that familiar way.

* * *

Dan perked up like a dog whenever Rufus picked up his guitar.

Rufus wrote many songs and played his beloved instrument all the time when we were newlyweds. He would often play songs that he said were written for me. When Dan was still crawling, he would sit on the carpet under Rufus's stool and look up as he played the guitar and sang. When Dan grew into a toddler, he would dance to the music. He never reacted to any songs that played over the car radio, but to Rufus's guitar he immediately rose to his feet and danced around. Giddy, delightful baby laughter often accompanied this routine, along with wild spins on the floor and arm waving. Rufus sometimes stopped in the middle of a song that he was playing just to laugh at his son's spirited dance. At this Dan stopped and looked at his father, his tiny pointed nose scrunched up.

"Play more, daddy! Play more!" Dan begged. Rufus eventually calmed himself and continued his playing, and Dan carried on his dance.

My secret shame? I hated that guitar. I hated it, and how often Rufus played it, and how Dan loved to dance to it. It sounds like a horrible and un-motherly thing to say, I know that very well. But I also know that Rufus played that same guitar for Lily at one point. Lily, the one thing he loved more than music. He even loved her more than me, his own wife. It hurt me so much to think that she was always in the back of his head. Every strum of that guitar was a knife in my heart. It was an instrument he had played for her; it was the thing that brought him close to her. I was close to him as well, standing in that imaginary audience with open arms. But despite how close I seemed, Lily was always in the front row with the best view.

What killed me the most was that Dan loved it so much. I know that he just loved the music. He always appreciated what his father did with notes and chords. Yet in my mind, that guitar was the Lily connection, and to see my own son laughing joyfully and dancing with her was the most painful thing of all. Especially since I never saw him ever act that happy way around me when I did things with him.

Dan continued to dance, even when Jenny was born. I remember one specific time clearly, and I will probably never forget it. Dan was six and Jenny was three. I remember being in the kitchen preparing dinner. Dan was reading a new library book, and Jenny was playing with some toy blocks on the floor. That was when Rufus entered the room, carrying the weapon and its stand.

"I feel like some tunes, what do you say?" Rufus asked. Dan immediately jumped up and gasped excitedly.

"Yeah!" Dan exclaimed, clapping his hands once. Jenny laughed from the floor and clapped her hands, imitating Dan. I could only watch helplessly as Rufus began one of his peppier songs. It sounded like siesta music. Dan stood up and danced the way he had since he was one and a half. His high-pitched cheers and laughter echoed in my ears. Suddenly, Dan stopped hopping around and ran over to his sister.

"Come on, Jenny!" he exclaimed in his little voice. He took Jenny's hands and pulled her up off of the floor. "Daddy's playing another chorus!" I heard Rufus's charmed laughter as my son pulled my daughter over in front of him and spun her around and lifted her up and did all sorts of crazy dances. I heard Jenny's shouts of joy combine with Dan's. No one came to get me to join them. I wondered why Dan ran to get Jenny and not me. I wondered if Dan could sense that for some reason I did not belong there with them. Lily floated into the room, singing along with my husband and dancing with my children.

"Play more, daddy!" I heard Dan shout. "Play more!"

I stood in the kitchen and folded my arms, keeping watch on the party that I was not invited to and probably never would be.

* * *

Dan was a self-reliant child. It was a good thing, but a bad thing as well. In school he made some friends, but he never kept them for long. He had a few crushes, but they never liked him back. I could never understand why. Dan became quite a charmer as he aged, and I can assure you that there's no motherly bias in that statement. He grew tall and very handsome. He had a certain, sarcastic sense of humor that he had no trouble revealing. He got his assuredness from his father. Rufus usually had witty or sharp comebacks to things people said. As Dan got older, I wondered if people Dan's age could handle that kind of humor.

There was one girl who could. Her name was Vanessa Abrams. Dan met her when she moved to Brooklyn in second grade. Vanessa was the only true friend that Dan ever had. She came over to our penthouse many times. Sometimes they would sit in his room and draw pictures and laugh together for hours on end. They traveled all across the Lower East Side together with Vanessa's older sister when they were newly preteens. When Dan entered seventh grade (the age when he started talking to us about dating), all of the family began to ask him about Vanessa.

"Why don't you take Vanessa out? She's a nice girl," Rufus suggested.

"You two have been friends forever," I said. "I can't think of a reason why you wouldn't go out with her."

"Dan and Vanessa, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" Jenny exclaimed.

"She's my best friend. It would be weird," was always Dan's reply.

They graduated together in blue robes and caps. I can still recall the photos with nostalgia. They spent the entire summer together, as always. One hot July night, Vanessa came over for dinner and went into Dan's room with him afterwards. I was passing by the open door, a dish towel in my hand, when I overheard their conversation.

"I have to admit that I'm not too crazy about going to St. Jude's," Dan said. He was sitting on the floor, looking up at Vanessa sitting on his bed. He sighed. "I know mom and dad want me to get a better education, but those people are going to be so…" He trailed off.

"Weird?" Vanessa suggested.

"More like materialistic and self-centered," Dan replied. "I've heard stories about them."

"So have I," Vanessa said with a nod. Dan looked up at her earnestly.

"What's your advice?" he asked. I smiled. They were so comfortable with each other. Vanessa pondered for a moment, dramatically placing a finger on her chin.

"You never cared about what anyone thought of you before. Why should you care now? If those spoiled brats don't like you, then it's their loss. No matter what, you still have your old friends." Dan laughed.

"Yeah, you're my only old friend." Vanessa cocked an eyebrow.

"Is that a complaint?" she asked. Dan grinned.

"More like an appreciative comment."

I recognized the way Vanessa's eyes sparkled when she looked at Dan for the first time. My son hopped onto the bed next to her and they stared at each other in silence. I walked away, having a feeling of what would happen next.

I still don't know if I could call what Dan and Vanessa had that summer--and for the year that followed--dating, because they never made it official. At least, they never made it known. Dan would turn red and try to deny dating Vanessa whenever Rufus and I brought it up. Yet my husband and I both knew better. One night while I was heading off to bed, I heard laughter coming from Dan's room. I opened the door to see Dan and Vanessa lying on the bed together, trying to hold back their laughter. She had come in through the window in his room. I wondered how many times she had done that without my knowledge.

"That can't be going on," Rufus told me the next morning at breakfast. "Lord knows what they could be doing in that room." I sighed.

"Rufus, you can't honestly think that they were doing something. We know Dan; the most he probably did was kiss her and read her some love poetry," I said. I was convinced that the two were harmless together.

"He's a teenage boy, Alison." His voice rose a little bit. "You can't be so lax when it comes to these things. I'm glad to see that Dan and Vanessa are so close. I think Dan needed this. That doesn't mean I'm going to allow them to be secretly seeing each other in the middle of the night." There was a long period of awkward silence. I placed the bacon pan filled with grease back on the stove.

"I know my son," I finally said stubbornly. Rufus stood up, his face grimaced in annoyance.

"I'm still going to have the talk with him." Then he walked away to our room. The longer we were married, the more times Rufus seemed to become irritated by me. It seemed that anything I suggested or did was wrong. I wasn't exactly sure what bothered him so much.

* * *

When he got into high school, Dan never liked going to parties or doing anything that people in his class did. If they were into pop music, he'd buy a Metallica CD. He would rather sit at our penthouse and write something, listen to Rufus's music, or ask me about my art instead of hanging out with the teens his age. Dan hated St. Jude's his freshman year. Even when things weren't so bad, he would complain. Vanessa came over a lot more often, and I would hear Dan tell her random things about his day:

"Some jerk whipped my book out of my hands and threw it across the courtyard during lunch. Just because he isn't smart enough to understand the works of Jean Paul Sartre doesn't mean he has to take it out on the book."

"We had gym today and I fell down the rope we were supposed to climb and everyone laughed. Truly, my finest hour."

"That rich son of a bitch Chuck Bass whacked me in the face with his annoying scarf when I was walking down the hall again. He didn't even notice. I swear to God, I'm going to run up to him on the last day of school and take that thing off of his neck and throw it up on the roof of the school. Then he can call his daddy and whine about how his scarf is on the roof. And then I'll laugh. I'll laugh so hard I'll pee my pants but I won't even care. Maybe I'll even take off the pants and throw them at Chuck."

"Wow Dan, you're very compassionate," was Vanessa's sarcastic reply to the last comment.

My son's lack of people skills was beginning to scare me. I could understand being in a bad class during grammar school, but Dan's comments made me start to think that his critical nature was hurting him more then he imagined.

"He's his own person," Rufus always defended. "I like that."

"Maybe he's too much of his own person," I replied. Rufus looked at me with big eyes.

"I'd rather have Dan hate those kids then become one of them." I knew he was thinking about Lily when he said that.

"Why don't you go to that party you were talking about?" I asked Dan at breakfast one morning in April. My son looked up at me with puzzlement.

"Did I tell you about that?" Dan asked. I placed down a bagel in front of him.

"No, but you told your father. I overheard." Whenever Dan had a problem or something interesting to say, he went to Rufus first. I figured that it was the father-and-son thing, but whenever Jenny had a problem she seemed to go to Dan. Dan was a heartfelt, caring brother, but all of their actions made me wonder where my place in the family was.

"No, I'm not going," Dan answered, reaching for the grape jelly. I did not want to seem too imploring, but I still talked on.

"It wouldn't hurt if you went," I said. Dan looked at me as though I was joking.

"I'm getting out of that school with those people in a matter of weeks, mom. I only have two full months of freedom away from them." He picked up a butter knife. "The last thing I want to do is go and act like I actually care about their opinion of me." He spread the purple goop on his toast. I sighed.

"Why don't you ever make an effort, Dan?"

"I've made plenty of efforts." He took a sip of his orange juice. "Mom, does it bother you that I don't do anything they do?" His words bothered me more then I let on. I looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"What do you mean?" I asked, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Why do you always want me to hang out with them? You're always mentioning about the kids at school, or the dance coming up, and this or that." Dan looked at me patiently, waiting for an answer. I didn't respond. "Those people don't think for themselves."

"I know, I know. I'm aware of all of your stories. I just think that it may be beneficial if you went to one party," I said. "You can make some friends."

"They don't want to be my friends. They're in their own little world that includes the pleasures of money and making each other feel miserable."

"Maybe you'll meet someone that doesn't like that," I suggested. Dan looked down and played with a burnt piece of crust on his toast.

"Alright, mom. If it means that much to you, I'll go."

I would have rather him go just because he wanted to go himself, but I figured it was better than nothing. In the few days before the party, both Dan and Rufus looked at me as though I was pushing for Dan to be a social butterfly. It may seem like I was doing that subconsciously, but I honestly didn't want that. All I wanted was for my son to have some friends. It seemed like neither of the two most important men in my life understood what I meant whenever I spoke.

When Dan came home from that party, he acted in a way that I had never seen him act before. He came through the door grinning, his eyes glazed over in a dreamy manner.

"Well, how was it?" I asked. I was sitting on the couch and sipping some coffee as I looked over my art samples. Dan sighed out loud happily.

"Mom, there was this girl," he said. I raised an eyebrow as he continued to talk. "She had this long, golden blonde hair. She was the only person who talked to me at that party. Well, she only spoke two sentences to me, but still!" He went on, his descriptions sounding like he was into this girl as more than just a friend.

"Don't let Vanessa know that you were talking to her," I warned teasingly.

"She was just unbelievable," Dan went on, ignoring my comment. For some reason, my heart fell a little bit. I had a hunch for just how much the artsy girl liked my son.

"You've never talked this way about Vanessa in your whole life," I stated. Dan smiled warmly.

"I care about Vanessa more than anything. This girl was just different, that's all." He hummed as he strutted to his room. I couldn't believe my eyes. Dan never acted so happy since we bought him Cedric the cabbage patch doll when he turned two. I went back to my art at the table, trying to forget about it. Dan never mentioned the blonde girl again. I did not forget to ask what her name was, I just didn't. I'm sure that Dan mentioned it. I don't remember it if he did, and I just felt so bad for Vanessa at the time that I did not even ask.

* * *

Dan went back to St. Jude's for his sophomore year and managed to keep his grades straight A's. It's something that I've always been very proud of. I knew he would be intelligent from the second he picked up his first poetry book.

I had my own problems to deal with. The distance between Rufus and I was getting worse, though he did not know it. When we dated, Rufus would tell me practically anything that popped into his head. When Dan was a sophomore it seemed like we hardly ever talked. When we did speak to each other it was business: either the kids or the art gallery. Occasionally Rufus would bring up the good old days.

"Remember when we traveled to the West Side for Lincoln Hawk's last concert?" he asked me one morning. I smiled, remembering the way I jumped up and down for Rufus in my steel-toed boots.

"My vocal chords were hoarse for an entire week," I stated. He laughed pleasantly as he sat down on the couch next to me. He placed his arm around me. Rufus used to laugh a lot when we dated. After Dan was born he usually only laughed at a joke that one of the kids made--or when we did discuss the old days of his rock star fame.

"So were mine," Rufus replied. "So were mine."

I knew that he loved me. He would tell me that often. However, that was all he would ever say. I never heard what Rufus was thinking about many things unless he disagreed with me. I still felt like he got annoyed with me. I would often lie in bed at night watching him sleep and wonder just when he had grown so unattached.

It began to depress me. My art suffered. No longer were my pictures bright and filled with emotion they way they used to be. I made fewer efforts to talk to my husband. My surroundings were beginning to kill me. I came home from the gallery often to hear a whining son or daughter or my husband pulling out his old records. He would get up and greet me with a kiss.

"I love you, Alison."

It started to sound fake after awhile.

"I love you too."

Eventually I couldn't take it anymore. Rufus's emotional absence from my life plagued me every day. Even though I felt like I was the outcast of the family, the Humphreys were for the most part connected and happy. Now it just didn't seem the same. One night in October, I approached Rufus.

"I think I'm going to have to get away for a little while," I said. Rufus looked at me as though I had just given him a punch to the face.

"Why?" he asked. I tried to think up the quickest excuse.

"My art just isn't what it was," I said. "I think I need a new location; new inspiration."

"What about the kids?" Rufus asked.

"I think they can manage," I said. Rufus still looked hurt.

"What about me?" he asked. "Did you think about how I would feel about this?" I sighed.

"Rufus, I can't ask you anything anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" That was when I let all of my thoughts out. Rufus stood there and listened to me tell him that he wasn't open with me and that he was unemotional towards me without defending himself. When I finally stopped, there was a period of silence. "So, that's it, then?" Rufus finally asked. "You think there's something wrong with us?"

"No!" I said. "I just think we're not communicating as well as we should be."

"Then there's something wrong with us." Rufus looked at me in disbelief, as if he was looking to wake up from some nightmare. "Why do you think that we don't communicate well?" I looked down, not being able to face his saddened eyes.

"You never talk to me anymore, Rufus. You used to talk to me about everything, and now it's just the kids and the gallery…"

"We're a little busier now then when we were first dating, Alison. We're adults--parents. Those things are all I think about," Rufus said. I shook my head.

"I don't feel included in your life anymore. And I've felt that way for a long time." Another few moments of silence followed. "It will only be for a short while," I said. I turned around, not certain if that was the truth. Rufus seemed more upset then I thought he would be; definitely not as detached as I thought. Yet I still wasn't sure how I felt. Just as I was about to open the door, Dan came through from the other side wildly. He looked at both of us. His eyes were large and shook as though he was about to cry. Rufus immediately ran to him.

"Dan, what's wrong?" he asked.

"It's Vanessa." Dan blinked, and tears as if appeared in his tragic brown eyes. "She's moving back with her parents to Vermont. I'm not going to get to see her anymore." Rufus hugged Dan, looking at me as though wondering when I was going to step in.

"When is she moving?" Rufus asked.

"Next week. Her parents wanted to get over it quickly. Dad, she was my best friend," Dan uttered.

"I know."

I continued looking at them without saying a word. Best friend? Was that all Dan could say about her after a year of what seemed like dating? Was she a friend with benefits or something more? Was Dan suffering from a broken heart or the loss of another sister? I was so confused; I didn't know what to do. Rufus's eyes still implored me to comfort Dan along with him. I remembered the dancing and the conversations that had taken place over the years without me.

I walked past the both of them and out the door. They didn't need me then, and they didn't need me now.

* * *

As it turns out, I was only gone for two weeks. I thought about Rufus the entire time that I was gone. He seemed like he really did care when I left. When I returned home though, things did not get any better. Rufus made an effort to embrace me back into the family, but somehow it seemed like his heart was still not into changing. When June approached I talked to him and asked to leave again. Rufus was always a mellow man; he was never one to scream. His response was the angriest I've seen him, yet he still didn't scream.

"I can't believe this! Alison, you can't just keep leaving! I love you and I need you! So do the kids!" Rufus looked so heated up that if I touched him I think I would've been burned.

"I know you do! I just need a break!" I yelled. My voice was always the first to rise when we fought.

"What will it be next time?! A divorce?! I've tried to be more open with you ever since you came home! What else can I do?!" His voice sounded desperate. I just looked at him. "I'm trying my best!" he shouted. I sighed.

"I know you are. Maybe it's just not enough."

"Then what is?!"

The clock in the kitchen ticked loudly.

"I don't know, Rufus. I just don't know."

I turned around and left again.

* * *

When I went off to Hudson, Rufus tried to grasp onto some rationality to tell Dan and Jenny. I was preoccupied, for I moved into a tiny house. It only had three rooms, which was perfect for me. I had enough money saved in my bank account to rent it; money that I never told Rufus about. I was thinking about getting a small loft, but a loft would remind me of home. I didn't want to be back at home.

My neighbor was a man of thirty years named Alex, and he was absolutely gorgeous. He had brownish-blonde hair and blue eyes that reminded me of an ocean. He was such a gentleman when we first met. He helped me carry my easel and my luggage into the house. A few nights later he came back around and asked me out to dinner with him and a few friends. He stopped by to look at my art and often gave me compliments. We saw more and more of each other as the weeks went by, and I began to tell him everything about the situation with my husband. Alex was an amazing listener. I found myself becoming more comfortable with him in a month then I had been with Rufus in almost fifteen years.

Then one night, I invited Alex over to watch a movie. It was "A Star Is Born" starring Kris Kristofferson and Barbara Streisand. It was about a rock star who fell in love with a singer girl. I curled up in Alex's burly arms while recalling that this was the movie that Rufus called "ours."

"You seem preoccupied," Alex told me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's just that this movie reminds me of…" I suddenly thought of Rufus standing on his stage again with Lily Van Der Woodsen in the front row. I looked back at the screen and saw Kris and Barbara laughing in bed together. When I blinked, I saw Rufus and Lily.

"What? What does it remind you of?"

I looked up at Alex, staring straight into two deep pools of blue.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

I grabbed each side of his face and pulled his lips into mine. He did not object.

* * *

I know I'm going to sound unbelievably cruel for saying it, but I'll say it anyway. Until my daughter came to get me in Hudson, I never once felt guilty about having an affair with Alex. Whenever Rufus called I would feel a tense knot form in my stomach, but then Alex would drop by and everything would feel alright again. He became my superman, the one man who I could always count on. When Jenny arrived at my doorstep, however, not even Alex could save me from facing my family.

When I returned home, I received all the comments about my loyalty that I expected to receive. Rufus was hostile but allowed me to stay. Jenny seemed like she just wanted Rufus and I back together. But when Dan came in and saw me sitting at the breakfast table, he dashed for his room. When I ran in after him, he basically told me that I should never have left and that I was being careless, but not in those exact words. Then he got up and left.

"Where is he going?" I asked out loud.

"Probably to Vanessa," Rufus answered. I looked at him with shock.

"Wait, Vanessa's back? Since when?" I asked. Rufus shrugged.

"She came back around Halloween. I'll bet you don't know your son has a girlfriend either, and it's not Vanessa." At this my heart stopped.

"Who?" Rufus walked out of the kitchen and down the hall towards our room. I sighed, aggravated. "Who, Rufus?" He closed the door and didn't come out for awhile.

Rufus and I talked things over and we were going to try to make it work again--until Lily Van Der Woodsen came over for Thanksgiving dinner with her children. It became worse when I discovered that Dan was dating her daughter. First my husband, then my son?! What was it about those Van Der Woodsens?! Could I not escape them?! There were other complications that I won't go into, but I will say that Lily left that day and Rufus promised to stop seeing her. The day after Thanksgiving, while many other moms were out at stores getting the best things on sale, I was twitching in my bed. I kept thinking about how I hadn't talked to Alex since I arrived in New York and about Lily's unwanted appearance at dinner the previous day. So much had happened while I was gone, and I was suspicious that other things had taken place that I didn't know about. I felt so confused. I did what I always did in my times of crisis.

"Hey Ali, where have you been?" Alex's smooth voice said over my cell phone.

"I'm fine babe, I'm fine. Listen; I want to see you. But we can't make it known, alright?"

Alex secretly came over to Brooklyn and I met up with him any time I could get away from my family. Rufus found out about it (thanks to a phone call) and we had yet another argument. They had become so frequent that I was beginning to get very sick of it. On Christmas Eve, we finally admitted the conclusion that we had been avoiding for so long.

"I guess by turning our backs on other people, we thought we could fix ourselves," Rufus said. I stood looking up at him, recalling what he said when I left for the first time.

_"So that's it, then You think there's something wrong with us?" _

I saw visions of Alex and Lily flash through my head, and I realized that I could only be myself when I was around Alex. I was certain that Rufus felt the same way about his ex-groupie.

"Maybe other people aren't the problem," I suggested. "Maybe we've changed."

We accepted it and I decided to spend some time with my two kids on Christmas before I went back to Hudson. Dan came back early Christmas morning from spending the night with Serena and we all left.

"I'm going to go get some hot chocolate," my daughter said, standing up from her café seat.

"Hey Jen, can you grab one for me?" Dan asked politely. Jenny nodded before walking away. Instrumental Christmas music played softly over the café's radio. My son turned back to me and just looked at me for minutes on end. I decided to make conversation.

"The city looks so pretty all decorated, doesn't it?" I asked. Dan nodded.

"Yep." We were silent again. I remembered how much Dan reminded me of his father. "Why did you do it, mom?" Dan eyed me curiously. I stuttered, not expecting such a question.

"What?" I finally asked.

"Why did you do it?" Dan asked. "I just don't see a reason why you cheated." I looked at him in silence. He smiled a little at the corners of his mouth. "You always do that."

"What?"

"That thing with your eyes," Dan said.

"What thing?" I asked. Dan gritted his teeth for a minute and sipped air through them. It seemed like he regretted saying what he did.

"Well, don't take this the wrong way mom, but…whenever someone presents you with facts or a question you just stare at them as if they're from another planet or something. And then your answer is never really that substantial." I was a little confused. I stared at him intently.

"What are you trying to say?" I asked. Dan sighed, putting his fingers together and averting my gaze.

"I don't know how to put it to you without sounding mean. You're my mom; I don't want to hurt you." I smiled a little.

"Go on, Daniel. Don't worry about that." He was always honest. I did not want him to stop being that way. He finally looked up at me, reluctantly.

"To put it frankly mom, I think you're naïve."

I wasn't expecting that answer.

"Naïve?! How?!" I asked, my voice raising.

"Oh no," Dan said, exhaling loudly. "I knew I shouldn't have said it."

"How am I…" I stopped, speechless. Dan looked like he didn't want to say any more, but he knew he couldn't leave me hanging.

"I think that you go off into your own little world sometimes where you don't think about anyone else but yourself. You don't really mean to hurt people around you by some of your actions or decisions, but you do. It's like a child who doesn't know right from wrong."

At first I didn't understand. Then it hit me. I didn't feel guilty about the cheating. I got confused easily and did not care to solve things. I imagined that Rufus's desire for Lily was behind everything he did, even if it was just playing guitar. I held a childlike grudge when Rufus tried to better himself before I went to Hudson. I didn't comfort Dan that day because I cared too much about my own broken heart and my own needs instead of his. I complained about Rufus not communicating when really I did not make an effort to communicate with him. I made it seem like everything was his fault when really I cheated on him.

I was a child. A high maintenance, immature child.

And my seventeen year old son knew it before I did.

Dan saw the tears creeping out of the sides of my eyes. He suddenly became alert.

"Mom, please don't cry! I'm sorry; that's the last thing I wanted! Especially when I'm not going to get to see you for awhile!" He got up to come over and hug me. I held up my hand to stop him.

"No Dan, no!" I smiled at him through my tears. I even laughed a little. "It's okay." I wiped my eyes. "God, I'm such a mess!" Dan still looked like he felt guilty.

"That's not true, mom," Dan said comfortingly.

"It is, but it's okay," I said. I fumbled for my purse to get some Kleenxes. Once I found some I looked at him and smiled again. I remembered when I didn't feel like being in a loft because it reminded me of home. "Maybe I just wasn't meant to be a parent."

"Don't say that," Dan said. "You love Jenny and me."

"Oh, I do! With all of my heart!" I sniffled and spoke the insight that popped into my head. "I just don't think I was meant for the responsibility."

I thought back to my wedding day and how happy I was. Rufus and I had such a great start. Lily didn't have him, I did. I ruined it myself. And it was far, far too late to fix anything now. Not when I had blown so many chances. Dan walked over to me again and smiled. I had cheated on his father, and cheated him by doing so, but he did not seem upset at all anymore.

"I read a cheesy phrase recently, and I don't know if it's true, but I'm going to say it anyway. It went like…don't worry about the people in your past, because there's a reason why they didn't make it to your future. If you think you and this Alex guy have something, then maybe that's why you and dad just couldn't pull it together. I know you're upset, but maybe it was all just meant to happen."

Could he talk any more like the adult in the situation?

I stood up and hugged my son close to me. He was taller than me, and I cried into his black jacket.

_"Silver bells…silver bells…" _

"I'm sorry, Dan. I'm so, so sorry."

Then I felt guilty. For the first time since I had returned, I felt guilty for everything that I had done. I wanted to make up for it. I wanted to turn back time. I wanted to be with Rufus again and appreciate the love he gave me. I wanted to be there for my kids. Dan pulled away and gave me that lustrous smile that he had showed me since he was an infant.

"Don't worry, mom. We'll be alright." He spoke as though he was reading my mind, and I truly believed what he said.

* * *

When I got into Alex's car early in the morning two days later, all I could think about was Dan. He was my little boy, the baby that I brought home from the hospital. Yet he was more mature then I was. Rufus told me that a lot of the kids he went to school with were insecure, troubled, a group of disasters. Dan was the exception. I felt like I belonged in that Upper East Side world more than my son did. I looked at the road in front of me, thinking about how much Dan grew up--and how I missed it. I was there looking on for the most part, but I hadn't paid attention. As my son said, I was lost in my own little world.

I thought about when I told Dan to go to the party freshman year and make some friends. At the time, I thought that he would be lonely if he didn't make any. I grinned. Dan didn't need anyone but himself. I wondered about his girlfriend and knew that even if they broke up, Dan would be alright. He had his confident, independent self on his side, and that was all he ever needed. I found myself admiring my own child.

"Are you okay, Ali?" Alex asked.

The sun rose up over the road, as bright as Dan's smile. A new day had begun, a day full of second chances. My time with Rufus may have been over, but my life wasn't. I could still better myself. I could still grow up.

_"Don't worry, mom. We'll be alright." _

I looked back at my lover and smiled broadly, feeling more mature than ever before.

"Yes, Alex. I'm okay."

It felt good to say that after fifteen years. It felt even better to mean it.

I have only one person to thank.

**THE END**


End file.
